Introvert

The creeping web

of purple fear

is drawn softly

across my skin.

Pulling tight, constriction

of my lungs;

I cannot breathe,

for all my air is

blown like glass

across a page

in hot and crawling

words. I hold my throat

and try to close it;

hold the remaining

thoughts in. On the page,

I cannot hide behind

the fiction of my face.

I fear if I unlock myself

I will never come

back in.