There's nothing glamorous
About kneeling on the cold bathroom floor
Staring into the toilet
At your dinner
With a finger down your throat
And an imaginary gun to your head  
Trying to quiet your heaving
So your family doesn't wonder
And not stopping until you are empty
Until you are sure that every ounce of your enemy that we call food is out of your body
The same body your mother spent hours and hours pushing out of her so your beauty could be shared with this word
Your body which was once a vessel for beauty and love
But has now become a vessel for your self hatred and distruction
No
There's nothing glamorous
About staring into the mirror
After its all said and done
Looking into your blood shot eyes
Searching for something that was lost when you rid yourself of that food
Running your hands under warm water  
Trying to wash away the scent and shame
But no matter how hard you scrub
No matter how much soap you use
No matter how strong the water pressure is
They linger
And linger
And linger
No
There's nothing glamorous  
About your mother looking at you with tear filled eyes
And asking if you're doing "it" again
Because she can't even stomach to say what "it" is
Almost like you can't stomach the thought of being away from a toilet for more than a few hours
And all you reply with is a dishonest no
You watch as she slowly dies inside
Because she knows no means yes
And she pleads with you
"Why" she cries
And you don't even bother to answer
Because even as sick as you are you know how twisted your reasoning is
No
There's nothing glamorous
About your life revolving around the next time you can get to a toilet
When all you can think about is that next purge
That next release
That next cleanse
Because when you purge you're not only purging your food
But you're purging all those thoughts of stopping, all those thoughts of getting better
When that food hits the water those thoughts quiet
All you hear is "get it out" "get it all out"
They are silenced by your need to be perfect
To be thin
No
There's nothing glamorous
About soar throats
And mouth soars
Scared knuckles
And puffy cheeks
No
There's nothing glamorous
About slowly destroying your body
Your body which is now just a peetry dish for your sick thoughts
Everyday
From the inside
Out
Trust me
I know

It starts with thoughts
They tear my insides up
Almost as much as this disease
Destroying my body
And my mind
I know what I do
Is sick and twisted (and I guess that makes me sick and twisted too)
But I can't help it
Because it's become a need
A way of life
It's ruined me already
I've lost my self to this evil sickness
Self destruction is my speciality
And it's sad really
That the cold tile floor
Feels like home

A stranger stopped me on the street today
To tell me I was beautiful
And I looked at him with searching eyes
Because I thought maybe he wanted something
But actually I don't think he wanted anything at all
And this realization
That a stranger wanted to make me smile
Just because
Makes me smile
Even more  
Than his words

You said it was just a ****,
So were the taste of her lips worth the taste of my tears?
Were the sway of her hips worth my scarred wrists?
Were her moans worth my gasps for air as I cry?
Were her wanton gazes worth the sadness and hurt in my eyes?
Was her shuddering body beneath you worth my curled up one balling on your couch?
Was that few minutes of gratification worth my lifetime of distrust?
Was it worth it?
Was it?  
I sure hope it was

Why do we equate hurt with love?
"Love isn't real unless it hurts"
No
Love is not a perpetual cycle of hurt
Love is not being stabbed in the heart
Over
And over again
And taking your attacker back
Because they did it out of love
No
They did not take that knife
And puncture your heart
Twisting and turning that sharp weapon  
As to really cause damage
Out of love

I've lost you   
Somewhere between our late night talks and early morning drives
(The ones that no longer happen)
Somewhere between college applications and graduation gowns
Somewhere between new friends and old ones
Somewhere between you drinking on Wednesday nights and popping pills to function Thursday morning
Somewhere between ****** up feelings and crowded thoughts
Somewhere between my fourth cup of coffee and your fifth cigarette
Somewhere between you not caring and me not trying
Somewhere between rushing strangers and passing cars
Somewhere between this coffee shop and home  
Somewhere between hello
And goodbye