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Will I now forget your face
Since I do not fear you?
Will your wretched memory fade
And will I cease to hear you?
Has this day brought healing,
Or is it a passing feeling?
I could no longer make a poem
For my mind has gone silent
Tried to swallow, choked on words
How pitifully malevolent.

I see my reflection in the mirror
But that wasn't really me
I see pain behind the smile
But the eyes were filled with glee.

Red was the color–
Of the stain on her cheeks
Blue was once the sky
But now it all can't be fixed.

I could not understand
How quick it was to change
But it wasn't entirely true...
Still see me within your range?

I may be what I appear to be
But deep within, I'm scared
Please hold me, don't let go
For all the memories that we shared

I can't assure that I could stay
But I'll still be right here
This love could only grow
Even if I disappear.

Thank you, I'm sorry
This won't be goodbye...
I guess I finally made a poem
And no, I won't say I'll die.
What else to say? Oh, yeah, Hi! :D

© Cyrille Octaviano
01/29/16
@ 8:43 am
I check for your poems
Every month, week, sometimes day
Hoping for a new release
I remember how close we once were
And how everything changed
It used to bother me but
Now it's just strange to remember
How we talked for hours on end
Trying to hold on to something
That I think we both knew would never work
I guess that's just how it goes
My old friend
I'm just too scared to say
Hey. I miss you
Anxiety is rocking back and forth at 1am like a small frightened child.
It's slowly pulling every single hair out of your arms.
It's biting your nails, and picking at your skin.
It's those tiny snaps that make no noise.

Anxiety is taking a curve at 110 mph.

Anxiety is my red hair.
Its the first thing that people see about me, and the first thing they assume is fake.

Anxiety is puking. Having no control over your body and becoming physically ill.

Its replying to a text message .2 seconds after it was received and then turning off your phone because you don't want to see the other persons response to your swift reply.

Anxiety is noticing. Its noticing the minute changes in tone, posture, manurisims and ticks, music choices when you are around, and how often they use descriptive words that could subconsciously be describing you.

Anxiety is failed medications, after failure, after failure, after failure, after failure, after failure. You become the failure.

Anxiety is a broken record.
Knowing that everything is fine, still panicking at the drop of a pin.
Its replaying conversations you've had with others over the mental dispute of one tiny word, even years after the conversation occurred.
Its overthinking.
It's constantly wondering if your hands are in the right position, if your resting ***** face is showing, or if you have a hair on the wrong side of your part.
It's locking the door, both locks, checking the locks, leaving, turning around and checking the locks again, leaving, and then turning around to make sure the iron is off.

Anxiety is not ordering food because you don't want to talk to the wait staff, nor eat infront of others because you know you will make a mess of yourself.

Anxiety is constantly being a clumsy fool. It's things you can't control and it's faceplants on concrete.
It's making plans in advance, way in advance. It's asking your friends what their plans for New Year's Eve are, even though it's only March.
It's wanting to ask a girl out on a date, even though you have been on multiple with her, and trying to schedule it two and a half months in advance.

Anxiety is lists.
It's remembering what time you brushed your teeth this morning, but forgetting the childhood story your friend told you 5 minutes ago.
It's repeating yourself because you forget your own words from 5 minutes ago.
It's looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger.
It's waking up while driving down the road, having no clue what's went on in the past 24 hours.

Anxiety is like drinking on a hangover.
It's mental, it's physical, it's psychotic.
It's seizures, it's palpitations, it's hospital trips with whispers of a straight jacket.

Anxiety is more than being afraid of a stage, anxiety is the downfall of me.
I was watching the fish a few days ago, and decided to join them.
Their flickering fins slowly glinted as the sun sank beside me.
I came prepared: purple swimsuit, goggles, and a glowstick
But I left behind a life preserver.
It was on the shore, just in case, but as my feet graced the waves it no longer felt necessary to take precautions.

The golden red hues faded as the water got cold and I continued to drift.
My glowstick glanced off scales and shells, and my hair dye ran like blood around me.

Humans aren't supposed to be able to live without oxygen.
The body will shut down in at least four minutes with severe brain damage, and the possibility of death,
But how can one think of that in moments like this?

Even when all that is left is green, man-made light,
Waiting two seconds in murky liquid, the water comes alive.
Anemones waved as I sunk deeper, their glow penetrating the black.
Schools of fish twirled between my thighs as I landed softly on a coral bed, then slipped off into the sand.

Bubbles brewed from my nose.

Eyes burning as my gaze roved
I was blind in the darkness.
My chest began to tighten,
But who cared?
I had been watching fish, and found myself instead.
Now,
it's broken.

Soaking in regret.

Its whole heart wet,
an open wound.

Wrecked.

Wracked brain.
Passion rattles,
gurgling, like rain.
Cracked frame,
splat, it will,
circling a drain.

Its whole heart wet,
an open wound.

Wrecked.

Now,
it's broken.

Soaking in regret.
Rough times ahead.
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