LavenderLines - Hello Poetry

Distress fills me as my throat threatens to spew. Terror thickens where my breath should be. My life isn't mine anymore; it belongs to this phobia. It feels like a permanent constriction in my throat that I can't swallow past. Caught between a cold sweat and a hot panic, I fixate on the narrowest point—the desperate, iron grip I keep on my own throat.

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Feb 5

Feb 5, 2026 at 11:25 AM UTC

The 852.0

Distress fills me as my throat threatens to spew. Terror thickens where my breath should be. My life isn't mine anymore; it belongs to this phobia. It feels like a permanent constriction in my throat that I can't swallow past. Caught between a cold sweat and a hot panic, I fixate on the narrowest point—the desperate, iron grip I keep on my own throat.

4

This incessant, aching state of being unwell touches base me. The clinic charts read, 'perfect health.' My loved ones call me blind. When I know my vessel is saying it's in different circumstances I am sick. But not considered sick enough.

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Nov 15, 2025

Nov 15, 2025 at 12:16 PM UTC

Sick, but not sick enough.

This incessant, aching state of being unwell touches base me. The clinic charts read, 'perfect health.' My loved ones call me blind. When I know my vessel is saying it's in different circumstances I am sick. But not considered sick enough.

6

My mothers eyes are always steady on me. Her eyes, a silent plea for a grandbaby, rest heavily on mine. A constant reminder of what she wants. She asks for something my heart denies. I feel shame every time I deny something she so desperately wants Every time I deny I swallow shame. Knowing I am not the one to ask for what she wants. I only wonder if her dissatisfied gaze is disappointing when I say no. My womb remains stone against the tide of her desperate want.

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Nov 13, 2025

Nov 13, 2025 at 12:16 PM UTC

Stone Womb.

My mothers eyes are always steady on me. Her eyes, a silent plea for a grandbaby, rest heavily on mine. A constant reminder of what she wants. She asks for something my heart denies. I feel shame every time I deny something she so desperately wants Every time I deny I swallow shame. Knowing I am not the one to ask for what she wants. I only wonder if her dissatisfied gaze is disappointing when I say no. My womb remains stone against the tide of her desperate want.

9