The Thing With Fangs

Fear.

It's that rising feeling,

the one that comes like a tide, 

how it raises up but drags you down.

It's that ache in your throat,

when someone is close,

too close, with eyes that can see every bruise on your body and soul.

It's that crawling ripple on your skin, 

that coldness when the darkness is alive,

the one that makes you pull the covers up over your head.

It's that turning in your stomach,

when dozens of eyes are poking holes through you,

the one that makes your palms sweat and your throat gulp.

It's that clench in your gut,

when you look into forever,

and your instinct is to back away, run away quickly.

It's fear.