You hold bones just to break them
You saw me drowning in a shallow kitty pool
The one that you filled up
With  years of little nitpicks about my body
And my own self worth
You acted surprised when I couldn’t hold my breath any longer
My bones weren't strong enough to handle your snaps
Weak from the lack of calcium
From the lack of food in general
Why didn’t you say anything the first time you heard the tsunami coming from the upstairs bathroom?
When my tears could fill an entire mason jar you bought for the sole purpose of drinking your morning coffee
Why didn’t you tell me I was wrong?
I was 115 pounds and thought I was too big
Maybe you did too
Is that Why didn’t you say anything?