I’d tell my husband that I was going to walk out into that main road
for a car to run me over.
I’m sure he would have expressed concern and said I should have invested in an organ donor
That he is with his wry sense of humour.
Now, I thought, we’re on the train & nothing feels real
Except maybe his hand on my knee reassures all I need to feel.
The sun’s out & sparring with my panic attacks & phobia
I have to leave ya for a better time.
We’ll have time to play this theme out over & over.
Just for now I’m feeling fresh
Not like I’m drowning in a cashmere claustrophobic coma.
Write to recover. Write yourself out of a panic attack. BUY a book. Look both ways before crossing the road so you don’t get mistaken for Avante Garde road kill.
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