I fished a box from the bottom of my closet
The box I have used and reused
(For quite some time)
(For the same enough reasons)
For I have nothing more left

I placed three of your shirts
(Same scent since you last wore it)
(Same scent since I last used it)
Two of which I have altered for my figure
One which reminds me of your sweat, your body, your fervor

As much as it pains me,
I need to give up the ones that lingered the most too.
A book for every special occasion
A novel for every month, for every day
I wanted to keep the memories (but not you)

I stacked Percy Jackson, Amy and Roger.
I piled Riggs, Clare and Seth Baumgartner.
I sealed the words that once got me through
(The days without you)
I’m giving them all back, so you’d know how it feels too.

I peeled our smiles, the kisses and hugs, the happy days
(Which we used to have)
I removed our photos from my collage
I deleted you from my camera
And I’m returning (our love) the products of your films to you.

I kept one. One photograph to remind me
Of how much I have loved and lost.
I kept one. To forever have this memory
Of how much love we had.
I kept one. (To remind me never to come back)

I untangled the bracelet, the necklace and the ring.
I have spent my minutes treasuring them.
But my time spent is enough.
Now, this will be yours to have.
To remind you (too) to never come back.

because I was young
and beautiful
I thought I was
something;

boys lusted
girls admired
I had fun until
I grew tired

a wise old lady
with a smirk on her wrinkled face
pulled me aside
and put me in my place

she told me I was nothing without love
so I got out of her grandson's bed
to avoid tears;
I titled my head

when I came up there it was;
hoovering above
I realized, everything is nothing
until it finds love.

I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.

Is that the lowest moment?
When you don't dare to wear shorts because of the scars that cover your legs.
And then you're sitting there at the dinner table with your family,
And they keep on telling you to eat,
But all you mutter is "I'm not hungry",
When you actually are.
You're starving but your image is worth more than a meal.
You eat a few bites just to shut them up,
And then run to the bathroom to rid yourself of it,
To make sure you can fit into those jeans,
The ones that could stand you losing another 5 pounds.
You get used to the lies of:
"I'm not hungry"
"I ate before I came"
And "oh yeah I'm fine, just tired".
Is that your lowest point,
When the only food you're feeding yourself is lies?

Poems on
  graph paper
crumpled
in the bottom of  my
  backpack.

I wonder if you’d want to know
I named all of my demons after you and
they haunt me in my sleep

when I was 14 I fell asleep in April and dreamed of bones and
I’m not sure I’ve really ever woken up since

when I lost 5 pounds I never saw a difference

when I lost 10 my mother said I was looking good

when I lost 20 she told me to stop and handed me food
and I became anemic

when I lost 25 I stopped drinking anything because
I felt water had calories

when I lost 30 my mother held me on her lap
and held my bones together for me

when I lost 35 I started fainting every morning and
the doctors could no longer easily find my blood pressure

when I lost 40 people started to stare and food made me cry

when I lost 45 it hurt to walk and to lay down
it hurt to eat
it hurt to breathe and
I started throwing up my empty stomach

the mind plays tricks on those that decide
nourishment is not needed

Eat.