Anxiety’s hands, consistently caressing your heart.
Everlastingly petting that sweating, flickering light
And every so often-
(you can tell seconds before it begins)
Her fingers twist around and up your throat, making their way, sliding against your eyes
Jutting out through tear ducts.
Her pretty nails painted with your silly insides.
Her other hand gently pushing down on your lungs
If you struggle, she smiles, she presses harder.
It is finished.
She collects herself to rest,
With your heart in her hands.