I was sixteen years old when I effectively vomited for the first time. As my mother’s pasta and the words of a boy I thought loved me flooded my esophagus I grasped the cold sides of the toilet seat with sweaty palms and bitten down fingernails. I looked into the mirror as if my reflection had finally transformed into a wax figure I had been burning at for years and I knew it would never go back to its original form. I’d seen that look before, in girls wiping their lips in high school bathrooms, girls who wore baggy clothes and flinched when boys playfully poked at their stomachs, girls who put rocks in their pockets before being weighed at doctors’ appointments and covered up bruises over fragile bones with whatever makeup they could find in their mother’s drawer. I sit in health class as the teacher speaks of the dangers of eating disorders from a third person point of view and it seems as if the only sound anyone is hearing is the growling coming from my stomach. I stand up from a lunch table in the cafeteria and freeze at the words of a girl telling me I’ve gotten as skinny as my three month prematurely born best friend. I walk through the front door and immediately remove every piece of clothing that might weigh even an ounce and I step onto the scale with hopes of seeing my importance rise as the numbers fall but no one ever told me that I am worth so much more than 96 pounds.

What is left
Sometimes
Is the best part

Not all
Of you
Is broken and lost

Through hope
And love
I became new

Because of...
What

You decide

Someone once
asked what her
being triggered
was like, she closed
her eyes and thought
of planes crashing and
car accidents but instead said
the beach
falling asleep under direct sun
only to wind up drowning
when you open your eyes, gargling
salt water where once had
been air, forgetting how
to swim, knowing you could die
right there

She who perched on the windowsill,
Allowing time to float through,
White, grey clouds passing slowly,
Admiring books on wooden shelves,
How valiant they stand,
Against the race first and second place,
Each page a testament to dedication,
Covers touching, a balancing act in motion.
She who perched, deserted,
Coins carefully scraped from bottoms of bags,
Pockets emptied deep into the night,
How those notes slipped so easily
from hand to stranger in times gone by.
She who prayed silently
For an unfound discovery,
How great she became at singing the others tune,
Rejoicing in poets long gone,
Humming the others lyrics so frequently.

It's like why I wake up early. Then you can justify to yourself why you are feelings so lonely. Obviously, since no one else is up, it makes sense you feel lonely, but when you are around people and you still feel lonely, that's when you feel most alone, because it doesn't make sense.

If I'm cold, I can justify to myself the reason I feel that way. I'm not wearing a jacket in the winter, clearly it makes sense that I'm cold. Then, if I feel cold inside even though I'm wearing a thick jacket, I feel even colder than before and can't understand why I feel so cold inside.

I can already feel the bullet on the roof of my mouth.
I can taste the metal.
It's just the blood that lingers.
Happenings wear down innocence.
Time withers smiles.
They say everyone grows up eventually,
They keep asking when I will.
I've always wondered why people ask questions they know the answer to.
I guess they need to hear someone else say it.
Maybe it's just not real until someone says it aloud.
Maybe you don't know you love someone until you lose them in a crowd.
I think that's the real test
Do you remember what they were wearing?
Do you remember what they look like?
How much time did you spend today looking at them?
It's funny how little you actually remember about someone.
It's funny how much you do too.
I don't remember my mother's birthday, but I do remember what you were wearing the day I met you.
I remember the way you looked up from your coffee and smiled.
I remember your eyes, and how they reminded me of tall evergreens stretching into eternity.
Anything seemed possible when your lips curled into a smile.
I could conquer the world when you curled into my arms.
Even your sighs sounded like they must have been written by some famous composer.
But I guess that's all just love.

I remember your skinny waist
And your skinny lips
With which you had a small smolder
For me to want to kiss.
Your skinny wrist
And skinny thighs
Made you all that much fragile
Than a porcelain doll,
Wanting to be touched.

Your love were my weakness,
That made me buckle at the knees.
My heart were your treasure,
Which fit your key.
Your lips were my forest,
As I kept losing myself there.
My body was your vehicle,
Which you drove to insanity.
Your hands held the knife,
That I were blind to see.
My clothes soaked the blood,
That rushed faster then adrenaline.
You stood there,
As my heart were ripped in two.