Anxiety

and knowing how i'd shake sometimes,
 he asked if i could help explain his wife's anxiety,
 saying every time he tried to be her sounding board,
 he – in his lack of understanding –
 became more an object of envy
 while simultaneously reflecting her own disdain for
 the stranger she found herself exchanged for in his chest like a mirror where –
 for some reason –
 the love behind it beat at regular intervals and normal patterns,
 and only skipped when, and i quote, "she'd beat electric fists into me,
 like defibrillating a healthy heart while she was under arrest."
 and she begged him to understand but – and i quote – "i can't"
 and knowing how she'd shake sometimes,
 and try to communicate through stutters when the cogs in her mind jammed
 and caught the wheel of another thought vying for her attention,
 i – oh almighty i –
 became more a silver lining
 combined with a witch available to burn depending upon the outcome,
 like maybe my tongue could breed magic that douses the fires,
 and i quote, "staked between us.
 they are high."
 (and i surmised, "and getting higher.")
 maybe i'll light the match myself.
 i thought of my own wife and wondered if either of them knew
 what they'd gotten themselves into
 when they got into it
 with us.