I told myself,
Something does not feel exactly sound,
And I realized I had not written a poem,
A good poem,
In about a month.
So I came back.
I am here with
something rather visual
And known,
But very uncovered.
By myself,
At least.

I yearn to be blunt,
But as a writer
I am a dancer with a pen.

I have an issue with food.
Now,
This is not a plea for help.
This is not a secret.
This is acceptance.
I have come to an understanding with myself.
A concept,
I am rather proud of.

I would not speak,
That I do not love myself.
Because
I have a wonderful and beautiful life.
A blessing day after day.
But,
I have an issue with food.

Something,
Just keeps my mind,
Versus
My mirrored image,
Not in accord.

I spend a great deal of time,
In deep thought.
Often,
In the darkness before I close my eyes.
I contemplate,
If food,
Is worth it the next day.

Do not get me wrong,
I enjoy sweets
As much as the next girl.
Yeah,
Her over there.
But often,
After I do enjoy,
Everything blurs around me.
All I can do
Is reminisce
On what has just entered my stomach.
Is it worth it?
The bathroom is right around the corner..

It’s not sadness.
It’s not a cry for help.
It’s just an issue with food.