my stomach is full of orange peels,
hunger, and acid
the bitter part of beauty
the unforeseen cost of living lightly
the pain of being empty
it brings rancid thoughts
almost as bitter as the orange peels in my stomach
i feel accomplished when i feel the burn
i am a skeleton on steroids
my bones are weak
my stomach is flat
flatter than the blade i used to cut away
my softness
maybe just one more time
i say
maybe you can start to live normally
i say
but even as i try
my father will always bring a bag of oranges home from the grocery store