Anxiety

why is it that my anxiety
requires your ghost to satiate me
as if you’re not merely my fantasy
but an antidote god made for me

why is it that my anxiety
longs for the warm memory
from when you laid next to me
as if you were mine endlessly

time stopped
heart beat
warm breath
tears shared

you weren’t meant for me
i know that
we’re back to reality
i get that

but though the logic is sound, the soul is not
it is still spell-bound, still distraught

will i ever outgrow you, i wonder?
will i ever stop looking back?
stop trying to find remnants of the almost there
stop feasting on all the flashbacks

i wonder
why is it that when i’m anxious
you’re still the one i dream of
for comfort