Dearest mystery,
I must tell you this
when you build up walls,
there is so much you miss

Dearest mystery,
I've tried it, you see
I blocked off the world
from the monsters in me

But oh, loveliest stranger,
you can't fool your heart
and even small paper tigers
will rip you apart

Dearest mystery,
Let go of your chains
you'll see when you do
only the best of you remains

as Women we are told that our
hunger cannot
exist
               unless it pleases men
that the expanses of our bellies
are shameful.
as if my stomach -- as full as the moon and as flat as the prairie
is not beautiful in its
ripe glory
as if my thighs-- made of thunder clouds
are not magnificent
as if my body-- striped with pink-white scars
is not worthy of worship

as Women we are told
that we should feel guilty for every bit of nourishment
that passes through our lips
but that we should be expected
to nourish the world.

but I say ****
diets
****
starving
and fasting
andbingingandpuringandworshiping
skeletal goddesses
that do not exist
(because even the most beautiful woman isn't lovely enough for a magazine)
and stop "going on a cleanse"
because we all know that cyanne and water and maple syrup tastes like ****
Instead
Praise Your Abundance.
run your hands over
dimpled
               soft
scared
            taught
rough
           smooth
full
       flat
bulging
skin & know
that
You Are Beautiful
&you;; bones do not define you.

eating disorders are so hard to

                  Kick

because your eating disorder becomes your

closest most

                     honest

most

             Vicious

friend.

your eating disorder will never abandon you.

it will never ignore you it will never

leave

        you

                                      ­    ALONE

at the End of the day, it’s just you and her.

and I say {HER} because mine is a real *****.

your eating disorder is always there to

                     whisper-scream

in your

         ear.

always

there to swim in your aching(empty)(toofull)

                    stomach

to claw at your skull to

break your heart.

she, my vicious friend, comforts me.

because even though I’m being

               destroyed

               ripped apart

at least I’m not alone.

hell, she even gives me an excuse as to WHY

I am

                         alone

itsnotmeitsmyweightnoonecouldeverwantafatgirl

itsnotmeits­myweightthatkeepspeoplefromgettingclosefromLOVINGme

She knows me better than anyone— knows how b

                                                              ­  r

                                                            ­       o

                                                              ­ k

                                                              ­        e

                                                      ­            n

i am.

as much as I ‘recover’

she is there— curled under my brain matter

like a troll in a fairy tale.

she is there

waiting

watching

counting

smiling

because i always come

back.

All these days, met with sighs let this finish with my goodbye.
Morning came, coiled then spent. Our greetings placed on stoves of hate.

If not today, then when my heart.
My time is yours to empty out.

It will wait for better days
Or better times
or better men.
I am none of them.

I want to be haunted by you.

Want you to...

Sit down beside me, 'til I feel your presence in the air.
Watch me remember you, So you can see I still care.
Caress me in passing, leaving chills on my spine.
Visit my dreams, make me believe that you're still mine.

     Haunt me daily, and keep this loneliness at bay.
     Haunt me nightly, until my desire goes away.

I want to be haunted by you, so I can ignore the pain
Haunt me please, so I can pretend that nothing has changed.



© Tina Thompson

Post page depression
The feeling you get after reading a poem or passage
One that touches you so deeply
You connect to every loop
Every curve
Every change of pattern in the writer’s hands
Held captive aboard ship of his imagination
Floating on an endless sea of words
Drowning yourself in syllables and sounds
Diving deeper down
Until you finish the poem
Then what do you do?
Go on rants
Seek a write that can match or even top
The emotions you felt when reading the other
This my friends
Is post page depression