it's in the far end of my closet
hidden under piles of folded knit blankets
shoved behind years of ****** art projects
alongside broken pencils and pieces of lint

despite being concealed
it stands out like a blinding neon sign
the unseen bits of food hidden by airtight plastic
my eating disorder salvaged in one piece of me

i haven't opened the
mold-encrusted capsule
since 2018.
maybe i never will.