My too-big clothes pile into mountains
At the foot of my bed.

I pull my belt tighter,
But loose fabric swims around my thighs.

Joy, love, control over both the internal and external
Melts away from me and forms puddles at my feet.

Looking down into the pool,
I see a child with loneliness strewn about her face.

She begs to be known,
But my impulse is to turn away from her.

To think the fear of loss, of abandonment
Has pushed me to abandon myself...

I cannot reach into that stagnant pond
To hold her.

I cannot keep putting my hands down my throat,
Hoping that she comes spilling out.

And were she to appear,
I'm not convinced I would have the strength to hold her.

But I lay siege to my body anyway,
Longing to starve out this parasite.

Hoping to leave nothing behind,
So that reflections can no longer torture me with desperate eyes.

Because absence, lack, nothingness
Has no countenance for mirrors or puddle-surfaces to display.

An empty space cannot hurt me,
Not like a blank page can.