You are talking, but I can’t hear you;
I don’t even feel near you.
My jaw is locked, palms are sweating,
and that’s what scares me.
It’s just a conversation, but I can’t breathe.
I’m waiting on a reprieve
that’s never come,
an excuse to hide,
a reason to run.
I’m alone, and I can feel it,
on the edge, looking in,
waiting to be let in.