My heart tries its best to be numb
Numb from you, numb from this
Blocking out the truth that my head knows
That I'm not allowed to have you

But no matter how much my head knows
And my heart tries so hard to hide
My body always knows what lies inside
And it knows that I want you despite it all

I crave how we melt together in a hug
Your embrace can lift my spirits always
Your strong hands on the small of my back
Massaging away my troubles of the day

I hunger for your touch, intoxicating
Your sweet surrender, I'm helpless
Helpless below the touch of your hand
The way you caressed me always impressed me

I yearn for the way that you looked at me
The way I could feel you felt wholly true
The thoughtful and considerate you
I was just under your spell, can't you see?

And as my heart tries to wake up
And my head tries to level itself
I'm still left exposed at my deepest extent
Due to you, my heart was healed, but now broken and bent

If there is a god he will have to beg my forgiveness

- carved into a cell by a Jewish prisoner

i lie quiescent
listening to the conversations of bees

and the roar of butterflies as they
begin the chaotic whirlwinds
of strife

this is a moment....of nothingness

when my eyes are closed to the rat race

when the green green grass..

......subsumes me

and i am peripherally,
at one with myself.

mother to all,
mother to none.

i hear the ants
tunneling beneath
and the bugs flying above

the earth speaks and moves

and i listen...

the sky smiles,
the tides greet the moon

and I am but one small heartbeat

                                                 ...............among millions

He watched me slay in my black-cropped top,
I wasn’t wearing any underwear,
I bended over, getting my glass of beer on the coffee table.
Man, I wish I could re-live that night.

There was no room for me in the couch.
He offered his seat but I sat on his lap,
And buried my face in his neck.
He asked me what’s wrong, his breath smelled like cigarettes.

He walked me to my unit
He grabbed my hand on 23rd street,
Looked me in the eye and told me how
My existence in his life is worth more than anyone.

Sure, her eyes are blue as the sea,
But my eyes are grey as storm clouds.
Her's will remind you of constant peace,
Mine will remind you of chaos and the unknown.
She'll go down in your scrap book,
Where as I'll go down in your history.
She'll be your memory,
I'll be your tragedy.

Aah! it was you  who did not discover:
Still love for you I have  like a lover.

I kept on peering you  like i always peered
And continued to do so till u disappeared.
But you did not turn around to see me
Just like the one who leaves
And i kept on believing , that you'll see,
Like the one who believes

Sixth grade was the first time I remember feeling out of place in my own body. I tried on a shirt from the year before and realized I wasn't the same size anymore. I felt strange for a moment, then brushed it off. I threw away the shirt the next day. By the end of middle school I knew I was bigger than my friends, but I tried to avoid thinking about it. I just wanted to fit in like the rest of them.

Freshman year I got called fat and decided to make myself invisible. Treated every food as if it an allergy. Lost 30 pounds in 60 days. Told my parents I already ate. Told my friends I was eliminating junk food. Told no one my secret for years.

Gained my weight back then lost it just as quickly. The never ending cycle of starving, binging, purging.
Starving, binging, purging.
Starving, binging, purging.
Nobody notices when I fall off track because disordered eating is only cared about when the victim is skinny enough that you can see the evidence. I have been terrified for four years to speak out for fear nobody would believe me when I told them.
No one expects a bigger girl to not know how to feed herself.
There is something to say about a culture so warped that I get upset by the fact I don't have a stereotypical eating disorder body.

Sometimes I wish it was more obvious, so at least that way they could see how hard I'm trying to be perfect... To fit in.
America, am I not sick enough for you already?

True love serves as a buffer to this world of hate.
When they despise us, Lord, give us the Grace to Love them more.
When they throw stones at us, give us the Strength to Love them more.
Even at the point of death give us the Courage to Love them more.
There sums up the power of Love, the Jesus type of Love.
The type of Love that just won't give up.