All I want is to be like the flowers
To be picked for my beauty,
Kept for my fragrance,
Cherished for my meaning,
And light enough to blow away in the wind.

I thought the world was big enough for me;
palms that hold the ocean together so
it doesn’t escape between locked fingers,
loveless wrists that drown in the abyss where
I occupy this space that isn’t mine.

I need to be less than I am to fit in between
bars,
so I can escape the prisons of this gruesome insanity
darling, stitch my bones together before
I collapse into scattered pieces
take away from the numbers and make them smaller
like my throbbing heart
and hide those starless veins where there’s no breath
and don’t forget to make a fortress out of my dying skin
for the birds no longer sing on delicate silk sheets

Lately I've been measuring,
It Seems that my time is growing thin,
Wind me up and watch me spin.

I'm just skin and bones

All worn out and nothing fits
Brennevin and cigarettes
The more I give the less I get
But I'm all set,

To be just skin and bones.

Waking up is hard,
But going to sleep is harder.
We don't like to fall asleep,
But if we do,
We love to.

Not eating is hard,
But eating is harder,
We don't like to put on weight,
But if we don't mind it,
We love to.

some days
i physically cannot eat
and everything tastes like sand
but there are others
where i'm a bottomless pit
and everything tastes better than it should
and no matter what kind of day it is
i'm disappointed in myself.

"You're so thin, what's your secret?"
It isn't cutting out carbs,
My secret isn't a diet in a magazine,
My secret is hidden under baggy sweaters,
My secret is the scale hidden under clothes in my closet,
My secret is exercising until I pass out,
My secret comes from feeling fat every second even when I'm being begged to gain weight by doctors,
My secret is placing my entire self worth on a number and the belief that others judge me by the same numbers,
My secret is a voice that is always yelling at me, telling me I take up too much space and need to be sick to be acceptable,
My secret is looking in the mirror at all the weight I think I've gained since the last time I looked, an hour before,
My secret is the desire to slice my fat right off,
My secret is the hidden food in my dresser that I told my mom I was taking for lunch,
My secret is hidden at the bottom of toilet bowls,
It's an empty laxative package,
It's fainting every time I stand up too fast,
It's numbers. It's all numbers. Calories. Pounds. Kilograms. Clothing sizes. Calories. Inches. BMI. Calories. It's counting, recounting, then deciding I don't desire it anyway.
It's striving for the lowest number, to have the lowest number, to be the lowest number,
My secret is comparing myself to everyone I see and always thinking I'm worse,
My secret is turned down coffee dates, parties, and sleepovers because there will be food there,
My secret is the word "fat" carved into my inner thigh with a blade from a pencil sharpener,
My secret hides behind every "no thanks I'm allergic" "I'm vegan" "I can't have gluten" and "I already ate",
It's being told curves are beautiful and nobody wants to date a skeleton but still not being able to believe it,
My secret is paranoia that everyone is trying to make me fat,
My secret is having nightmares of eating an almond then waking up with a racing heart and panicking,
You want to know my secret?
My secret is in the tenth grade my bmi was lower than my age,
My secret was tears shed in hospital beds,
My secret is being begged by everyone I love to just have a bite,
My secret is being afraid of eating fruits or drinking water because I think it'll make me fat,
My secret is getting on scales then off of them then on them then back off and still not trusting it,
My secret is a constant demand to be thinner with no point that will ever be enough,
My secret is that the only curves I want are the curves my ribs would make poking through my skin,
My secret is squeezing my fat until my nails pierce my skin,
My secret is feeling like I'm being suffocated by my own body,
My secret is dizzy days and cold skin,
My secret is that even through years of therapy I can't get the same amount of satisfaction from any person or accomplishment as I can from losing weight,
My secret comes from every hit from my mom, from every nasty word spoken by the girls who thought I wasn't good enough, from every guy's touch I didn't ask for,
I didn't get thin due to having willpower,
I got thin from becoming powerless
to a mirror that will never tell me I'm good enough until I'm dead.

There is too much

dust in my joints
ice in my bones
wind in my ears
and flesh between my fingers.
I want nothing more than to shatter
into the millions of stars you once said fill my pores.