Recovery is like a closed wound
That keeps reopening.
Sometimes it doesn't hurt
Sometimes it stops aching
Sometimes it blends into the skin in such a way
That you forget it's there.

Other days
It itches and stings
And you keep picking
Until you rip the scab off completely
The blood covers you
You become trapped by this illness
You are smothered.

Eating disorders are open wounds
That heal over time
But the mark leaves a scar
That is there forever.

So I cannot say I was bulimic
And frankly, I wasn't a very good one
But I am a bulimic
At peace one day
In raging battle zones the next.

The important part
Is that the shot never fires
The enemy never wins
The wound never stays
Open.

Father,
I know I've never been the best child
Something's always missing
Empty lies and promises the same
But I wanna come home
I wanna come home

Can I be yours tonight?
Will you love me anyway?
You don't owe me anything
And I'll give you everything
Just lead me back
Light the way
You are the way.

I'm falling short
As I'm sure you know
I'm not the kid I used to be
I've run away
And I wanna come home
I'm coming home

Can I be yours tonight?
Will you love me anyway?
You don't owe me anything
And I'll give you everything
Just lead me back
Light the way
You are the way.

I can't promise I will
Never miss a note again
But the song will be different
This time

I will be Yours tonight
I know You will love me anyway
You don't owe me anything
And I'm giving You everything
You've lead me back
Light the way
You are the way
You are my way
I give it up to You.

A comprehensive list
Of things that people don't say to me
Don't say to her, fat girl
Don't say to her, dumb ****
Don't say.
"You're not that fat"
"You don't need to diet"
"Have you eaten today?"
"Are you making yourself throw up?"
"Are you bulimic?"
"Are you feeling okay?"
"I believe that he assaulted you."
So every day I put on a new mask
Made of lavender soap and my own blood
That I continually drain out of my body
Onto a sheet of paper
Onto a slate of stone
Write it on my skin.
Because every day,
A new version of myself comes to dinner
Will it be the quiet, gentle Sarah who is too far too boring
But well behaved
Or will it be the loud, driven Sarah
Overstepping boundaries is her favorite passion
Doing things the wrong way is as natural to her as breathing
And then she scratches a list of things she has heard
A few times too often onto her wrist
"Fat *****."
"Waste of space."
"No one will ever love you."
"**** yourself."

I  
                                                    Thought
 ­                                                 I Might Die
                                         That Day As I Watched
                                   Your Lifeless Body Being Lifted
                         By Angels, and yet, lowered into the ground.
                                          Six feet deep, I refused to
                                         Throw dirt on you because
                                         I felt as though it would tar
                                         nish Your perfect complexi
                                         on The beautiful hand I wa
                                         nted to hold in mine Was n
                                         ow wrinkled and  withered
                                         I sank with you My blood s
                                         ank into my veins My heart
                                         sank into my chest My eyes
                                         sank into my head But I wa
                                         s not dead yet.  You  taught
                                         me to live So I could not fal
                                         l apart I bit my lips until  th
                                         ey bled Clenched my fists u
                                         ntil they went white Fightin
                                         g to hold on.  I could not cru
                                         mble  But as the coroner low
                                         ered you down  I realized th
                                         at I had no place to go *but up

my wrists still hurt more from your rough hands
pinning me to the floor,
than anything I've ever done to them before.

my head still aches more from screaming,
rather than by an old concussion lingering.

my eyes still cry and leak over,
but I'm not sure why anymore.

But as long as it's don't ask, don't tell,
I'll be fine.

Water falls onto my hands
Its fluidity saturates my pores
Its gentle flow breaks my spine
I am on my knees now
*I am yours, alone.