Dear Anxiety,
But even that isn’t quite right,
is it, unless dear means simply
that which we hold close, never letting go, but
you are the one who insists, aren’t you?
You give such terrible advice
that I always listen to
There is something in me
that never learns.
Your face is a warped mirror, reminding me
that only the bad parts are true, that
global warming and insomnia and mosquitoes
are because of me, and your tender embrace
is so close
that I am breathless
I would dig out my heart
if I thought it would change
anything, I would evict this unwelcome tenant,
this false friend, leaving muddy footprints
on the welcome mat
I digress, anxiety—
This fool who only wrote to say
goodbye
A lie I wish I could tell
as well as you.
Sincerely,
Me
Had a prompt to write a letter to an intangible idea, such as love or beauty or honor, and I ended up going rather personal with this one. Makes me want to write about this topic more, to see if I can describe it accurately.
Recent comments