I am not writing this
to get attention
or pity
or so people will tell me
I'm beautiful the way I am.

I am writing this
because when I post a poem about
being terrified to look at myself
because I hate what I see,
it should not be added to a collection titled
Humorous.

I am writing this
because when I sit at a lunch table
without a brown paper sack,
boys should not laugh when they ask
what, are you anorexic?

I am writing this
because when I watch Disney Channel
with my eight-year-old cousin,
I should not hear jokes
about skipping meals.

I am writing this
because when you google
anorexia is,
the first suggestion should not be
anorexia is good.

I am writing this
because our society should not
expect people to be paper thin
but judge them
for trying to get there.

I am writing this
because insecurities
are not a joke,
*no one
should be laughing.

I AM SCARED
TO LOOK AT
MY NAKED BODY
IN THE MIRROR

My stomach growls
so I get another cup of ice water.
Please,
let me feel pretty.
I'm trying so hard.

They say that a person's heart
is the same size as their fist
but when you said I love you it hit
harder than your hand ever did
and I may have two black eyes
but yours are the color of fresh cut grass
and your heart must beat faster
than a hummingbird's wings
because your fist moved like
the needle of a sewing machine on my skin
but I was the one stitching myself back up
and I am covered in bruises
shaped like the hand I used to hold
but they will never hurt as much as
the last time I felt your pulse

The night is dark
and the wolves are hunting
but the fire burns hot
as it illuminates her face.

Her hands find warmth
reaching toward the flame,
but her back is exposed
to the bitter wind.

The fire does not protect her
against the chill of night,
and only when she turns to walk away
does she feel its heat on her neck.

The cold dark has taught her
that a fire only lights one side.
The only way to be safe
is to find a warm home deep in these woods.

1.
A boy dropped his pen on the floor next to me
and I took it.
I said it was mine when he asked about it.

2.
I didn't cry when
my cat
or my dog
or my great grandma
died.

3.
I read the text.
I just didn't want to talk to her.

4.
I broke up with him
on the phone
because I thought he might cry
if I did it in person.

5.
I stopped talking to him
when I got a boyfriend.
I started talking to him again
when we broke up.

6.
We flirted for 2 years.
He told me he loved me.
I told him he was like a brother.
He started doing ****.

7.
I knew his dad hit him.
I didn't tell anyone.

8.
I told her to stop talking to me
because she was too depressing.
She went to rehab for self harm.

9.
When he told me he wanted
to **** himself,
I told him a million reasons he shouldn't,
but never once said
*don't.

When I used to have bad nights,
I would lie awake and cry,
curled up in a ball on my side
clutching a blade so hard my knuckles were white
trying to fight
but I didn't know which voice was mine.

Fall asleep too late,
in my dreams I would suffocate
and have bloodshot eyes when I'd wake,
but reassure my mom with my arms around her waist
yeah, I'm great.


Now when I have those evenings,
I try to keep from screaming,
but I can still feel your heart beating
when I read your messages that I can't bear deleting,
and I write all these texts to you that I'm not completing
because I told you to go away but I hadn't planned for your leaving.

Close my eyes when the darkness recedes,
the nightmares are always you and me
and I take Tylenol to make your memory leave
but my hands are red and they will never be clean
*I'm sorry for the times I made you bleed.