It turned cold quickly
Almost skipping Autumn
Reluctant to wear a jacket
Or a hat, or gloves
Too distant for my arms
To keep him warm against my chest
He said he never wore a scarf
But if he did, he would go Dr. Who style
I had to laugh as i looked up the reference
Fifteen feet of mismatched stripes
Maybe not the stripes, he said
I happened upon a huge skein of yarn
It felt like a warm blanket in the oddest,
Most interesting colors
Manly, neutral, and perfect for Fall
So i crocheted a scarf and pictured him warm
The pattern in those colors was a mess
I chuckled at why they would make such an ugly pattern
I crocheted every stitch with love
Through arthritic hands that felt no pain
I crocheted a scarf, stopping only when it dragged the floor when i put it on
Two feet short, but ridiculously long
I bordered it in shades of green to match
Not realizing it was variegated into Brown's and maroons along the way
But it matched the odd mix of colors
And finally made it almost pretty to me
I covered myself in perfume
And put it around my neck
As I turned I caught a glimpse in the mirror
It wasn't a horrible amalgamation of hideous colors
It was camouflage, with a matching border
I laughed so hard, and felt so bad
My hillbilly in camouflage
Wearing a scarf way too long
Maybe he would hate it
Maybe he won't wear it
I knew better
So, I packed up his bag of gifts
And sent it to the frozen mountains
He never wore a scarf
He opened it and put it on
It smells like You, he said in blssful remembrances
It's definitely camouflage, he laughed
It's perfect baby, I'll wear it whenever it's cold
And in the picture he sent
I saw its beauty
It wasn't in the patterns of crisscrossing colors
It wasn't in the accidental way
The border perfectly complimented the body
It wasn't in the fact that he would be able
To wrap himself up in me to stay warm
It was in that picture
It was the joy that filled his smile
It was in his eyes that danced in love
It was in the fact that he believes
Because i made it, it's perfect
Yes, i accidentally crocheted a thirteen foot camouflage scarf
And he loves that I can keep him warm.

Her voice echoes through the empty hallways. She is loud but alone. The tears that you see are only a fraction of all the tears she actually cries. Her hair is long and blonde, but she despises it. She wants to shave it all off, to tattoo her skull to show that caring is superficial and WRONG. She lines her blue eyes with a liner called "denim". She throws on jeans that hug her body and a t-shirt stained with hot chocolate. She covers the brown stain with a scarf. She puts on chapstick because who knows? Maybe someone will think she's important enough to kiss her. Her brand-new bangs cover her forehead and eyes. They cover the hoop earrings that feel too girly, too pretty. Everything about her today just feels WRONG. The boy she likes is just one table over, and he doesn't glance at her once the entire hour. She hurries out of the room , not looking back. She bursts into spanish class, out of breath and ready for the boredom that will be the next hour. And then it is back to study hall. It is all too repetitive for her. It is her first day back and already she looks out the door, ready to go home. It isn't like she's got any friends there either, she's an only child and her dad works overseas. The rest of the day is a blur. It passes and she doesn't notice or care. And that boy still hasn't noticed her. No one has. She is but an empty shadow of a heart in a hollow shell of a body that wants to be warmed by another.
But it isn't meant to be...

I mean, honestly.
He says fucknuggets around me.
Who says fucknuggets around a girl
if she isn't just one of the guys?
and shitfudge.
That's a new one.
I don't think he even knows
how I feel about him
and he couldn't.
I can't find the courage to tell him
but I'm such a hypocrite.
I once told him
"feelings are like puke, better out than in"
but just this once,
I think I'll hold back.

It's just a bite, what harm could it do?
It triggers a domino effect, because one bite invariably turns into two, and three, and four and all of a sudden you're eating.
But you can't do that, because being skinny will make everything better.
You look in the mirror, hoping to see ribs and spine and hip-bones. You stretch your skin farther over your bones, and watch the fat melt away. You are skinny, and you are indestructible.
Nothing fits.
You shop for new clothes
but they sag in all the wrong places.
Nothing pulls over your chest the way it used to, instead it hangs there limply.
There are inches of extra fabric behind your thighs.
Your hips used to be graceful and womanly, but now you look like a pre-pubescent child.
Being skinny just isn't fun anymore.
But you can't go back, because you remember times when you'd stand in front of dressing room mirrors and clothes would s t r e t c h over your stomach and hips and thighs and *******. Everything would be too tight in all the wrong places.
It is either skinny or fat, never an in-between. You can never be "healthy" because that's fat too.
And the food is still on your plate while all of this runs through your mind and it almost kills you, because it's JUST A BITE.
but it isn't 'just' anything. it's a big deal.
So you leave the bite behind and your stomach begs you for something, anything. And then you see the candy.
The chips.
The diet sodas.
The protein bars.
The brownies.
The ice cream.
The milkshakes.
And suddenly you are out of control, eating it all at once and you can't stop. It goes in but it HAS TO COME OUT.
So you lock yourself in the stall.
You tickle the back of your throat with your pointer finger and it comes back.
Purple,
Orange,
Blue.
Unnatural colors that come from processed foods.
Red,
yellow,
green.
And you are empty again,
crying on the bathroom floor
with no one to save you.