"Goodnight," I say
as I close the door,
and the boy leaves my apartment.
I slump against the door,
my boney back poking into the
undulation of the door.
I regret everything.
Again.
This isn't the first time,
that this has happened.

Why do I do this to myself?
When he told me,
he loved my body...
it helped fill the void a little.
But those words,
were empty,
just like my feelings towards him.

I'll do anything to fill the void.
I'll do what it takes to feel pretty.
I'll do what it takes to be called beautiful.
Because that's what matters,
right?