a slight joy permeates me
when the numbers on the scale dip below 100
when i feel my kneecaps clink together in bed

a smile whispers across my face
when i peer at the silhouette of my fingers
less blood and flesh and more the papery hands of dried up trees
against the burning blue sky of winter

envy chokes me like midnight smoke
weaving its way through strands of dead vines
every time i see the long, thin legs of supermodels
or of that one sweet girl with light brown hair
and a honeyed smile i knew from a three-week escapade

i tell myself and others i feel healthier,
that my hip bones protruding from my skin is desirable,
that i am loved and wanted just the way i am.

rather, my love is like a snake wrapped around its own master
squeezing affirmations and dissuasive persuasions from
the boy who is my home,
a finite connection in this world of infinite possibility.

i ask myself if the world would be a better place without me
every time i'm reminded of the expiration date
of my most coveted possession,
of the love that is the only thing i truly own for myself
in this godforsaken earth.

who am i to tell if it will all work out?

i do not know what to say
i am not so sure
of myself or my words anymore.
that bravado i had once before
has melted away, the youthful naivety
gone with the erosion of time.

maybe i see the world more realistically now;
whether that is a good thing or not
is to be determined.

i have not written for months
and yet, it seems like they all passed
in an inhale and exhale of breath.

the guy i was definitely not excited to see? gone back home.
the "perfect" one, the one i definitely overthought? dumped me over text and moved on.
the new one...
well.

i am not excited to see him
i am not excited to see him
i am not excited to see him
i am not excited to see him
i am not excited to see him
i am not excited to see him

running up the stairs, a familiar grin
he looks at me, that neon shirt
and the signs of a smile below his mask,
i nod back.
he’s a good friend.

slinking into the room like i’m supposed to be there,
i try to avoid his gaze
even though i would love nothing more than to stare in them
for the rest of my life.
my friend in the neon shirt sits down on the opposite side of the room
looking expectantly at me while i try to play it cool,
say hi to f & n,
act nonchalant-
even though my heart is running at 70 miles per hour.

some kids outside make some teasing noises.
on a normal day, that would herald a stinging glare
and a few choice words from me.
but right now,
i genuinely do not care.

and then he walks up, his familiar voice making me melt a little inside,
and wraps me in a warm embrace.
i don’t care what i look like to them.
i don’t care what anyone thinks.

i fit perfectly in his arms.

i thought it was amazing
because it had a ton of pages
and made me think about what i would be in hogwarts
that’s just the children’s book wormhole
make it long to satisfy parents
and give the kids a chance to put themself
in a neat, organized house or category
so they can feel special.
now, that i’m less naive,
i can certifiably say
that that series was
trash on fire.
(plus, no one can be sorted
into a category that clean-cut.
we all have rough edges.)