I found some parts of you today

in the box of junk you packed for me.

Seems you wanted me to remember,

while you were forcing me to leave.

As I tore the old tape open,

and the stale air leaked outside,

I found those parts of you

and laid them out side by side.

I carefully looked them over,

the memories came flooding in.

Then smiled as I thought about

how much Ive grown since then.

You packed this box to hurt me,

and you almost had your way.

But the girl you packed this box for,

is no longer here to witness your display.

So I packed your parts back inside

that old and tattered tomb,

and I drug that box down to the curb

for the trash truck to consume.

I do not see what they see
but I'm frightened that I do
and they see this massive form, too

I exist on coffee and air
more often than I'd like to admit
But it's worse to say when there's food involved

It's shameful to be scared to consume
while every calorie is an expansion of tomb
of your skin that you wear daily

And you grow larger and larger
while not eating much or nearly enough
and you really do see it that way

You wonder, everyday, has one person noticed
Wondering if there has been any change in appearance
even though the number on the scale keeps going down

You believe it for a moment
and in the mirror you can see it, finally
You're smaller, even sickly, and it feels good

But then you lose your control one day
and you eat and eat until you can't physically swallow one more bite
and though the weight gain is nowhere near noticeable
You're just as fat as you were when you started

there are nights where your absence chokes out my breath
and the only way i can finally rest
     is to heavy-handedly pull at the tides of my brew
          the way you'd paw at the hips of my skirt
          silently signaling you'd finally had too much to drink

your lack of grace illuminated
in whiskey-breath
and neon jukebox glow

so off we'd go
     leading the liqour-lust parade
     trailing downpours of drink chips in our wake
and you'd take up my hand
in your forklift phalanges

such a prideful little man-cub
with a puffed out chest and a leather vest
     only softening your edges in the sanctity of my lumpy bed
     when you've got the chance to rest your noisy head atop my naked breast

oh you rusted demi-god
though i do miss the struggle
and the snuggles
and the ***
          i'll be just fine with my growler of stout
          and your leftover whiskey in the freezer
forgetting what i'd learn
during our staggered steps home

The days go by so slowly
when you're not here to hold me

You dropped me faster than I could fall
how do you make me feel so small?

I hope she is worth you time
in the way you were always worth mine