Bun o'clock
I'm hungry but I don't say anything
Because I can hold on longer

Chew pm
Someone says I look thin
Have I lost weight??

Three pounds
Potentially three pounds
But I don't know because I always think I look bloated

Four ice cubes to tie me over
I don't need to eat
I'm okay

Five fat shaming *******
Stroll past me in their skinny jeans
Reminding me who deserves to be a size 0

Tricks o' the mind
Start to play
As I tell myself I don't need to eat because I did yesterday

Age seven is when
Mama first told me to stretch my shirts
Hide my figure
Watch what I eat
Stop taking second helpings
No dessert

Eight
Looks like a couple of donuts.
Muffins.  Pizzas.
Any round food.
My round stomach.

Nibble pm.
It's okay to eat a little?  Maybe?

Ten pm?
Or ten candy bars?

Eleven hours later
Nothing in my belly
But four ice cubes

Twelve: time to taunt my taste buds
Trick myself
Tell myself that I'll eat tomorrow
Tomorrow will be the day
The day I really splurge
Everyone knows that's a lie
But my tummy doesn't

I like to wake up at 7 am
Because that's when he wakes up.
I rub my eyes
And groan about being awake before the sun.
He rolls over
And stretches his body out on his bed.
I want to kiss his forehead.
Tell him it's time to get up.
Time to get ready for the day.
I want to scratch his back.
Tell him I love him.
Tell him I can't wait for him to get home tonight,
Even though he hasn't even left yet.
His bed is miles away from my own
But when I wake up at 7 am,
It feels like we wake up in the same one.

The chest falls up and
The chest falls down
The nose breathes in and
The nose breathes out
The eyelids flicker slightly and
The lips quiver none
The muscles twinge and
The veins pulse

His body is so serene
I imagine it every night
When I fall asleep
In my little twin bed
I scoot over
And make room for him
For his chest to fall up
And to fall down
For his nose to breathe in
And to breathe out
For his eyelids to flicker
And lips to not quiver
For his muscles to twinge
And veins to pulse
I want him to have room
Laying beside me
In my little twin bed

He calls me on the phone
And I hear it all
I see it all
I feel my hand draped
Over his curly little chest hairs
My pale dainty hand
Falling up with his chest
Falling down with his chest
I feel so close
Even from 250 miles away
No words need be spoken
Just breathing and snores
As we lay next to each other
Through the night
In my little twin bed

Not everyone thinks of it as a compliment
When you write about them
I thought it was supposed to be nice
Ya know
Love poems and ****
I thought it was supposed to be a compliment
Ya know
Love poems and ****
He said he's embarrassed
He stifles his words through nervous laughter
Puts his head down
Scratches the same nervous patch on his neck
That he always scratches
Whenever he gets nervous
I thought I was flattering him
Ya know
I thought I was being kind
Ya know
But my muse is just too shy
My muse is just too painfully shy
My muse just doesn't know what to do with the recognition
From someone who unconditionally loves him

How do you tell someone
That you've got your own blood on your hands?
That you still haven't cleaned the knife that ran across your thighs?
That you can't even cry because you're ******* cried out?
That your legs are bright red
And each cut is still clearly identifiable?
That you want a ******* hug but the blade is the only thing offering comfort?
That you know it's wrong but you still did it?
That your blood is still there
Four hours later,
Because if you move you'll just cut again?
How do you tell someone all of that?
How do you tell someone that,
Without scaring them away?
How do you tell someone that,
And still have them love you?

If you move
One Inch
In any direction
You'll move
Towards the blade.

If you move
One Inch
In any direction
You'll just
Start to cry.

If you move
One Inch
In any direction
Your cuts
Will open up.

If you move
One Inch
In any direction
You'll hurt
Yourself again.

If you move
One Inch
In any direction
You'll make
Another mistake.

You don't want
To do it
And you know
It's not okay.
But you don't
Know what else
To do
Or to whom
You can talk.
So you keep
On cutting.

It's always his smile that makes me melt.
His smile that tickles my soul, even when it's dark in the room.
I try to cast a cold facade,
But his warm eyes and easy going laugh turn me into a puddle.
His sweet words roll off his tongue and straight into my heart.
His big, muscular hands match up with mine.
He pokes fun at my little baby hands,
But kisses each finger with his plump brown lips.
Those decadent lips.
We giggle sweet nothings back and forth,
But those moments,
Those words,
They mean everything.
I sit up and stretch my arms.
He traces my body and kisses my back.
The three words I've longed to hear,
Finally escaping his breath.
I smile and melt back into him
As he pulls the covers over us.