Poets in Motion
Poets in Motion


by Heather Wilkins 6 months ago in art



I waited for you when you took the first step out the door.

I waited at night when you took a while to sleep by my side.

I waited for you to keep me awake at night.

Standing in the edge and feeling the rush,

The slightest pulse and the slightest touch.

Anxiety isn't my friend, enemy, or excuse.

Anxiety is something that creeps out of corners, shadows of our world.

It feels like oil on my skin.

Slick, grimy, greasy, evil.

It's the need to perfect, create, inspire that causes me to dwell or hide.

Anxiety isn't my mask or my face, it's the antagonist to my decripid fate.

Anxiety is the monster that makes me lash out to quelsh the flames of its choking smoke.

Anxiety is the bottle of alcohol that runs my throat until it's sore, ending my own voice and nothing more.

Where was the world in which I was safe?

Where is my world of innocence?

My world of love and happiness?

Something that became a cloud of lightning and thunder took it all away.

So far anxiety has never left it's hold of me.

When where there be a time in which my world becomes clear and sunny?

Instead of hatred, all I ask for is honey.

Sweet candy and tangy memories seem to be the best of medicine.

But how to overcome anxiety is all that becomes the method to tackling all my foes.

Anxiety may not be history, but battles are not over.

Anxiety isn't my master and nor is it my friend, but learning to cope with the feeling,

May just be the way to become its captor.

How does it work?
Read next: I'm Tired...
Heather Wilkins

Lover of words with a hope for a future novelist career.

See all posts by Heather Wilkins