she whispered to me
while bodies lay asleep
under the cool crumbly dirt

"I sharpened my knife
especially for your back.
I hope you appreciate it,
my dear."

our glass society is made of
broken girls
and
shattered boys.

she despised the word.
d e p r e s s i o n.
it was so heavy
like the disorder itself.
they both wetly clung to her
thin frame
wrapping around her
suffocating her
completely.

sometimes I wonder
about him
and if he really gave up on me
or if I pushed him away myself.

I think I'm allergic to eating..

       I wake up the next day to soft blue blotches on my thighs
       And angry red lines on my hip.

once is enough
to form an addiction
and that is why
the collection of scars
decorating her hip bones
grew and grew.

she was not in school for a week after that.
no one thought twice about it.
"maybe she's just sick..."
·
and she was sick
just not in the way they imagined.
not in the way they have all felt before;
not in the sneezing way
or the coughing way
or the sore throat way.
no, the delicate daisy had a
c o n t a m i n a t e d
mind.