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Silver Jul 24
I bet you're here to see the poem about you-
It doesn't exist.
Silver Dec 2020
The possibility of something coming in the future that surpasses the uncomfortableness of this era is inevitable. Even in times of darkness, the only thing I can do to prepare for that moment is to remain grateful for the things that are easy today, to appreciate their painless existence as a blessing in the now. One day, these neutralities might be the things that outgrow me—as nothing is permanent. This can be seen as a curse or a gift.

I will taste every sip of my regular morning coffee.
I will feel the hot water shower my shoulders.
I will scrape the warm lint out of my dryer trap.
I will smile at the bubble that floats from my dish soap.
I will tie my shoes carefully and hopefully.
I will say thank you to the sun for greeting me again today-
And I will say thank you to the moon for her lullabies.
Silver Oct 2020
I struggle to bring my attention to my fingertips
I’d like nothing more than to allow my hands to give words to the buzzing
I dream of scraping out the navy-blue lead feathers that swim in my stomach
Their quills pricking into my ribs and dusting my lungs
Turning the air inside them to crystals, betraying the trustful inhales
They claw their way out in the exhales, tightening my throat a little more every time
Navy-blue used to feel like an anvil pulling my heels down through the soft moss
Into the cold mud and slamming through the hard clay like a boreal quicksand
Now it feels more like the only thing that’s keeping me from floating away
It’s the only thing that I can remember, but the memory itself I can’t recall
It’s something I’ve felt before in some lifetime, but a ball and chain for this body
Now it’s nothing more than cold wind blowing linen against my ankles
Sea spray stinging my cheeks, leaving them red as the cardinal’s song
The black and blue bruising waves waiting to stick to my belly as I fall
I fall by the ribbon, carried by the bird who bears the night sky on his wings
The fall isn’t sad, it’s not angry- it’s still, guided and quiet
The type of descend that could quench an arsonist’s thirst
To steady the nomad into a static heart
The speeding air that could leave scorched, a glacier
I was born on a Monday, the day I feel it the most
When my toes grow numb from the wet stone
My wrists dance in the suspense of flight
Tuesday morning I bring my attention back to my fingertips
The cardinal sings his song to the blood safe within my skin
And the Night Sky bird dives with his ribbon undone
Silver Aug 2020
Three made me sob on my floor until my lungs convulsed and my wet face leaked down to my chest.
Pried at my ribs and dug in to find what I offered you, what you took so hastily.
In it’s place was something so heavy, so hard and lifeless.
A foreign object in the center of my being
It weighed down all of me, I could feel it leaking down my veins into my arms, legs, fingertips, toes.
It was cold and full of static.
I had to learn how to walk again,
My morning coffee came out stale,
My dinners turned into bottle-caps and buttons as I tried to pierce them with my fork
Eye contact clicked like south and south, north and north.
Did you give her what you took from me?
c r i n g e
Silver Oct 2019
I keep rubbing my hands for heat
Trying to warm you but not melt you-
To hold you in any state I can
You're consistent as water
Obsession is an addiction that preys on the desperately distracted
A sure sign that I'm not healed
Silver May 2019
If I have ever held your hand, just know that I still hold it in my heart
If I have ever dried a tear from your cheek, I still feel it on my skin.
If you’ve ever burnt me- I’ll still remember the warmth before the pain.
Change the locks, I still hold the old keys to every place I once called home.
I can never bring myself to understand why we make strangers from ex-lovers
We mourn for the death of who we wanted those people to be,
And lie to ourselves when asked if we broke our own hearts.
Silver Apr 2019
I sit in the bath and try to make amends
I tell my body that I'm sorry, that I love her and want to nurture her
And it feels sharp and rude sliding down my tongue.
I look at my flesh and hold her gently, holding my hands back from pinching and grabbing and pounding in frustration.
I love you and I'm sorry
Please stick to my tongue and dissolve sweetly.
Please mean it sometime soon.
All I want is to hold all of my bones to my heart
Keep them inside and insulate them from the cold.
My brain split in two
One side holds flowers
The other armed with arrows
Point me in the direction of resolution
Pull back and launch with force
Don't make me choose it-
I probably won't.
recovery, eating disorder, ed, ed recovery, anorexia,
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