for the first time in my life
i was certain love existed
but as quickly as i fell for you
you proved me wrong

I see your tears in puddles,
I see your eyes in trees,
I hear your voice in the wind,
You follow me everywhere I go.
Although I feel a little lonely when you're not by my side,
I know you're always with me.
Just because I feel a little lonely doesn't mean I feel alone.

I see more of you
every day.

It's been 5 months since you passed,
and your sister acts like you.

Saturday night she came over,
and showed us all your favorite videos.
We laughed,
as did she,
and we realized that for the first time in years,
she was a little livelier than before.

That's when I realized the skip in her step
so closely resembled yours.
For a moment of seeing her near the bonfire,
I was awfully sure I saw you.
As these thoughts left my head
I swore I saw you above,
shooting star.

I pointed out the star,
she pointed out that it was dead.

Maybe she knew what I was thinking.
Maybe that's why she pointed that out.

Maybe you're watching her.
Maybe you're more proud than I remember.
Maybe you're glad she's finally past crying
at the mention of your name,
because you know we all had that.

I know she misses you, more than we.
She longs to go back.
She regrets all those fights
and sleepless nights,
and wishes she'd spent just one more hour,
or week,
pulling pranks.

Then maybe,
she'd have just a few more memories
of you,

her
brother.

I'm seventeen.
I have scars lining my ribs, my thighs, my arms and my mind.
I either count my calories or blur them altogether; 500 a day or 4000 a day.
I am not an athlete.
I have no illnesses.
I've never been diagnosed.
I've simply been attempting to be the woman I've been demanded I be.
I'm failing, miserably.
Right now:
My mom is unconscious, failing to drown herself in alcohol.
My sister has locked herself in her room, isolating.
My dad is telling my neighbors their views are wrong,
And I am lying in bed, binge eating.
I'm seventeen.
This poem really does not have a beat.
This poem is a flow,
steadier than my self esteem.
Mirrors lie and pictures steal.
TV taunts and horror is real,
I'm seventeen and
I've tried to die,
I've learned to lie
To family.
I'm no stranger to the sisters death and night.
Death;
gives and takes, reaping the soil with the bodies of the ill
bodied,
minded,
hearted.
Night;
darkens the world, honing in on those I was promised I could turn to,
reminding them I am no refuge, I am ill
bodied,
minded,
hearted.
I'm seventeen and
My hands shake at the thought of losing my balance,
Ironic seeing as I won't even be standing
But the thought of disappointing you
Throws me down without hesitation.
I'm seventeen.

****.
I'm seventeen.

Who are you to stare at me?
Who are you to give me such harsh words?
Who are you?
Why do you do these things to me?
Why do you compare me to others?
Why do you insist I am never enough to you?
When did I do something to deserve this?
When did I begin to eat too much?
When did I begin to wrong you?
Why am I getting wider?
Why haven't you stopped me from binging?
Why haven't I been purging?
Who is Mia?

Where has she been?

What is she known for?

When did she come?

Why did she choose me?

How have I been so blind?