The Attack 

Your hands are tight around my throat choking the life out of me. 

I can’t breathe,
Can’t stop you squeezing,
gripping tighter.
I’m gasping, crying, clutching.

It’s futile.

Until his arms reach round so gently
and pull me back to him. 

His gentle touch chases you away.
Seconds feel like minutes,
feel like hours. 

The firm delicate touch of his hands soothes and calms. My tears disappear. 
He has saved me.
My husband brought me back from the brink of despair. 

You lose. Better luck next time. 

NB: I’ve just had my first panic attack. I was asleep having a bad dream about one of my triggers and on waking I felt as I described in the poem. 

This is raw, unedited poetry straight from the heart. If I feel the need I will edit but for now, just writing it was the therapy I needed. 

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