Shame.
When you're on the cold tiles,
sweat dripping to the floor,
throat raw and burning,
fingers covered in bile.
Shame.
When you open the fridge door,
the contents staring back at you, white
light spreading over the room;
a taunt at your weakness.
Shame.
When you put your clothes back on,
the mirror knows your secrets,
you, in all your unfailing misery,
stare back.
Shame.
She eats you away but you won't.
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC
Shame.
When you're on the cold tiles,
sweat dripping to the floor,
throat raw and burning,
fingers covered in bile.
Shame.
When you open the fridge door,
the contents staring back at you, white
light spreading over the room;
a taunt at your weakness.
Shame.
When you put your clothes back on,
the mirror knows your secrets,
you, in all your unfailing misery,
stare back.
Shame.
She eats you away but you won't.
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