Blue

Roses are red.

Anxiety is blue.

No, not like violets.

More like hypothermia

or asphyxiation.

These numbing feelings

that are way too strong,

controlling,

like water in your lungs

refusing to let you breath,

to relax,

to be.

And yet I was.

Somehow,

I continued,

with water pouring fourth

with each word I spoke,

with the cold ice

cradling every inch of my skin.

I still was.

You couldn’t take that away from me,

though you tried.

Anxiety is blue

like the vastness of the sky

on a warm summer’s day,

but don’t get too close.

You’ll be burned by the sun,

scarred alive.

from the inside out.

You’ll smile while you burn,

trying to convince the outside world

that everything is perfect

while you are simply

trying to survive

underneath that fake façade,

clouds hiding the blue,

until the rain comes,

and all you see is black.

Anxiety is blue

like a small bird

falling from the nest.

Down, down, down.

Dreams splattering

as the seconds tick by.

Time plummeting toward concrete.

The second hand spinning

wildly out of control

and yet streaming by

in agonizing slowness.

Anxiety is blue

like the color of your lips

as you whisper “I’m fine,”

yet you gasp for air,

struggle,

crave.

Anxiety is blue.

No, not like violets,

nothing like violets.