Anxiety

Anxiety gets caught pressed up against your breast when you fold your arms across your chest.

Anxiety is the monster hiding under your bed and in your closet, all green eyes and prickly skin.

Anxiety burrows underneath your covers late at night, waking you up empty and alone.

Anxiety wakes you up in a dull way with tepid coffee and cold feet.

Anxiety is an itchy sweater you pull at the neckline of as you commute to work.

Anxiety stretches the silence between stuttered sentences and injects them with self doubt.