It seems every single time you walk back into my life I fall ill under the heaviness of your stare.*
As if your irises could burn similar circular orbs straight through my heart, deteriorating my insides until I can't find the means to even breathe anymore. My mouth remains shut and my throat is swelling closed.
Yet I am still debating on whether I should just let your stare turn me to ashes, or use my extra ounce of effort for the latter - to rapture a scream and finally force you out.