Chasing Rabbits

There's a rabbit
crouched deep,
tangled in my veins;
he's shaking my ribs,
reminding me
I've got him caged
beneath my collarbones.

I can't stand
much more of the twitching,
the fur tickling my breaths
as he searches
for an escape.

I want him out,
but I don't think
stomping my foot
and telling him
how unfair it is
that he's choking me
with his little rabbit doubts
will work.

I shouldn't have made
the space near my heart
such a nice place
for him to move into.