I used to dance
the way some girls cry
and some girls lie
to get out of that mess
of always feeling like less
than they're actually worth.

And now I can't forget
the time he watched
and completely botched
that simple hello
because I simply said no
but he didn't listen.

And it's unnerving to me
that my "no" wasn't enough
and then he got rough
because he wanted to have me
and he refused to see
I wasn't his to have.

Now I don't dance
I need to feel protected
and momentarily connected
to whoever happens to be there
I convince myself they care
but then I met you

And you held me for real
and I started to feel
like I wanted to dance again.

since the age
I became a woman
and my hips widened
to welcome
future children
they told me
"lose 5 pounds."

they said
"you will feel healthier"
"be happier"
"look better"
but I felt, was, looked
just fine.

but the words
never stopped
and they seeped
deep into my brain
and I believed
every word.

so I stopped
eating carbs
and then anything
with a calorie
because I was told
calories make me
unhealthy, bad, worse.

and they say
"you look so healthy!"
"so happy!"
"so much better!'
but actually
I am dying
I cry in the bathroom
***** on my chin.

but my jeans
sling low on my hips
held up by shoestrings
and sharp angled bones
and my bras gap
over my deflated *******
like before
I reached the age
where I became a woman.

turn on the shower
hot, hot, hot,
unbraid my hair on the scale
119.9, 2 less than friday,
too much
for my 5 foot tall body.

sit on the shower floor
breathe in only steam,
rest my chin
lipstick marks on my knees
like blood.

my roommate's dark hair
tethered in the grooves of the shower floor,
sweeps back and forth
I twirl it around my finger
force it down the drain.

stand up
too fast, too fast, too fast,
dizzy
sit back down,
try again.

orange face wash
to keep my skin bright
washes away perfectly sculpted
cheek bones and nose
lips pale pink,
I bite them.

charcoal scrub
to clean out pores
blackheads are no good
only smooth skin
will do.

purple shampoo
to keep my hair blonde
purple conditioner
blonder, softer
gentle waves.

pink razor
removes unladylike hair
soft, delicate,
for surface use only
don't cut, don't cut, don't cut.

coffee scrub
to lighten scars
soften stretch marks,
eliminating the reminders
of what my skin,
my body,
has been through.

face in the water,
wash away my tears,
naked face like a child
wet hair dripping down my back
hands and feet pruned.

turn off the shower
twist my hair in a towel
soften skin with lotion,
coconut
boyfriends favorite.

vaseline lips
soft, kissable, desirable,
float to bed
the sheets are clean,
folded in the laundry basket
on the floor.

I did it again
the thing I said
I would never do.

I dropped the heavy bottle
on the razor blade
and crushed it
pulled the small blades out
separated them
one by one
and then separated my skin
pulling the cells apart
watching blood drip
my legs covered
my hips a canvas
on which I carve my pain.

Am I the only one
who feels this way?
Like my stomach
is coming up through my mouth
and my mind is buzzing
the black words swarming
like bees behind my eyes
and in my mouth
and the words won't come
because you are the only one
I can say them too.

Why can't I talk to you?
I need you to tell me
that you feel the same things
and that your heart is going to explode
that your mind won't turn off
the thoughts of me.

And your clothes sit
at the foot of my bed
and I struggle with thoughts
of both keeping and returning them.

Last night I gave back your jacket-
the one that used to smell like you
and now smells like
stale smoke from my cigarettes
with broken pieces of tobacco
lining the pockets-
I threw it at you
insisting you take it
even though you
wanted me to have it
and I didn't mean to
but if you let me
I would have held on to it forever
and slept in its embrace
pretending it was yours
but I don't want to pretend.

I want to wake up
next to you every morning
and kiss you awake
and rub your back to sleep
every night.
Why did you take that away from me?
From us?

I want to run to you
to tell you this,
to tell you how I feel,
so I can know
if you feel the same way.

Don't tell me to stay
when you don't want me.

every day
I fear for my life
because what I used to have
wasn't a life
and if that pain
and those feelings
that are shoved in a box
on the top shelf of my closet
return to me in my sleep
I will not wake up
the next morning

It had been so long
since I last made the effort
to put together
words with a meaning
beyond social niceties
and basic conversation.

Now that I have again begun
I cannot stop the outpour
of letters and spaces
strung together by
the most fragile of emotions
and thoughts I never
dare speak aloud
for fear they will be
misconstrued
by the narrow mind
of the modern young adult.

I don't know you
and yet
I wear for you
my heart on my sleeve.

I was a child
and you
9 years my senior
when you invited me
into your bed.

And I stayed,
but only to sleep
and you understood
and held me
like a father holds
his daughter.

And as time passed
I did more in your bed
than just sleep
and at the moment,
it felt right.

But now I see-

It wasn't.
I was searching
for my beloved father
in the corners of this town
a country away from him
and you were clinging
to the youth
you were too old to own.

And we found each other
and momentarily
I was happy
until one day I realized
you spoke down to me
like a child
and offered the
unsolicited advice
of a worried parent.

And then I was the worried one.

You ask me
to ******* my body
in return
for what you already owe me.

You ask me
to forgive you
for all the harm
and pain you caused.

So ask me
one more time,
and wait a moment.

Soon, you will feel
my pain,
burning in the Hell Fire
you call your heart.