I don’t know what you are,
where you’re from,
but I know what you want.
You want to rip my chest
from the inside out,
you want to force
my limbs asleep,
a tingling
that hurts every move.
You get off
when I sweat through my sweater,
my heart pounding in my chest.
You love to see me
start to shake and cry.
You never call me before you come.
You always show up unexpected,
at night, when I’m alone,
or when I’m in public,
just merely trying to get by.
You love starting a fire in my chest
that is so hard to put out.
You love making me feel like
I should be scared every minute.
But one day, I won’t let you
start that **** fire anymore.
panic attacks.
