I missed the scorching,
burning
screaming in my throat...

But it's like a big red button
an on switch
with no off.
I started something that I don't know how to stop

And now I'm sitting on the bathroom floor typing this up
silently crying
waiting for the next time this volcano will erupt.


I've missed the cold of the porcelain
the whispers of mia:
my fakest friends
reminding me of the stretch marks
forming on my skin
the disgusting nagging coming from within

I'm supposed to be getting better...
I don't want to lie to you...
But I don't want to.