At an impasse,
my anxiety
got the best of me.
You saw me vulnerable.
Understanding, with your arms
drawing near to me.
My thoughts kept us both awake.
I, so incapacitated,
all I see is your blur.
The sound of your voice, my single light,
no scorn for my state of being.
Instead you listened to my pathetic sobbing.
Used your sleeve to wipe away my saddness.
You comprehend my fears,
my desperate need to overcome
each and every one.
My need to let my fears and anxieties
eat away at me.
Until I have no choice
but to crumble and rebuild.
I consider you feelings,
question myself.
What have I done?
It's telling the type of man you are
to refuse to hold my storm against me.
To tell me to move on.
