CN: Eating disorders
hi. it’s me again, your insecurities,
I know we said we’d part ways,
and be done with our toxic back-and-forth
but I just could not let you go.
you’re a perfect subject,
your stomach falls 1000 miles underground
whenever he brushes your thigh –
or your stomach
or your arm
or looks at your face a second too long.
it’s not his fault for craving your touch,
but I cannot let him replace me.
remember when it used to be
just you and I? sheltered;
we’d hide beneath layers of shameful
pants a size too big,
your father’s coat,
black everything –
no squeeze, hints of slimming.
we’d say hey, if they can’t see us,
we’ll make it through today.
maybe we’ll be quiet this time
maybe we’ll master this game of hide-and-seek
they’ll stop staring,
and comments in passing will be just that –
a reflection of the world we exist in,
hints of ugly, diluted by ephemeral perfection.
you can’t let me go,
I made you
who you are.
I could teach a crash course
in the science of you,
although we know
you are whatever they make
of you and me.
when you curse the sweet taste of
necessity masked as indulgence.
when you name the monsters
who growl into existence in your gut,
with every “no thanks, I just ate”,
and as you drown them
in litres of achievement,
you will never let me go.
as you wither away,
and your soul quickly decays
in a swirl of numbers and bones,
to let you bury our never-ending journey
in your boyfriend’s old t-shirt.
By Doris Cozma
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