my lover called anxiety

i had a date with anxiety today,
she greeted me with a kiss,
she held my hands tight,
and told me she'd sit with me for lunch.

me and anxiety had this terribly beautful bond
for a year and a half now.
she was there when no one was,
she loved me deeply when no one could.

i had regressed feelings of love for anxiety,
and anxiety has her ways to bring it out.
she knew i liked art, she knew i love to dance,
anxiety knew me better than i do.

at least, she made me think she does.
anxiety loved art and dance as much as i did,
and because she loves me so much,
she wouldn't stop visiting me every night.

and in those nights, i watch anxiety shower me with love.
anxiety would lay with me in bed and tell me bedtime stories,
stories about tomorrow, and how i should be careful.
after those talks, anxiety would comfort me.

anxiety would dance in my skin,
with red paint for shoes. 
she left marks all over me
my thighs, my wrist, my hand. 

anxiety still loved to draw on me
with black and purple ink,
leave trails of her small claws on my body.
and oh, i loved it when she did that to me.

but i knew our love was toxic
anxiety would always hold me by the neck,
force me down to take her poison.
and anxiety... never really loved me.

i told anxiety to leave me already
she offered me her necklace for keeps
the pendant fell lazily to my chest
the chain wrapped tightly around my neck

anxiety gave me one last smile
then she said goodbye
little did i know,
she still got me in the palm of her hands

—combustingcolours