I am sorry to my body
But my spirit was not strong enough

I can't stop thinking of it
How the razor feels so cool in my hands
Fitting so perfectly between the grip of finger and thumb
How it appears from nothing
Pink
to
Bright red
Beads of blood pooling along the fine line of open flesh
The cold burn of alcohol
The soreness and sting with every step

I can't stop thinking of his blood
What if mine looked like that one day
How strangely romantic it would be
to bleed out the hurt together

I woke up craving it
He kisses me hard before I leave him behind in my dreams
It does not hurt during
Only after
perhaps these dreams are much like razors

I woke up craving to open myself up
clavicle to stomach
pour myself out over white sheets
the stains wont come out
My mom would throw them away

The place where i once felt safe
has grown teeth and a devious grin
come in my friend, while I chew you like gum
and spit you out when the sweetness has subsided

She is a monster in the back of my head.
Every bite of food fills me with dread.
“Don’t eat that, you’re already so fat.”
“0 calories a day will make your stomach flat.”
She comes to me in my dreams,
So sickly, so thin.
Her name is Ana.
She is the demon within.
She will pretend to be your friend
Just to get inside your head;
And she will hold on tight.
She will cover you in darkness.
She will mock you out of spite.
She does not forgive.
She does not forget.
Letting her in will be your biggest regret.