The worst part
Is that I can feel it happening.
I can see it coming.
The aching, scratching, crawling beneath my skin
My gut dragging itself up and out
Through my lungs
I can't breathe like this for long.
I know by now the limited time
My tired spine can hold me
This hollowed-out version of myself.
*I just wish I didn't feel so at home here.

I try to keep things natural.
No makeup
Not too much maintenance
No tight clothing
No scales in the house.
I was asked if I thought
I was better than everyone else.
If I thought makeup was a bad thing.
But when every day
Is a battle to love myself,
I strip down to the basics
To get used to what's me.
To make the blows of my reflection
In the mirror easier to take.
I'd rather love myself when I wake up
And love myself when I go to bed
Without worrying about how society
Sees me in between,
How you judge me in between,
If I can some day soon
Love myself in between too.

I pull my seatbelt a little tighter -
It feels good to be held.

Everyone tells you it happens at 3am
When the walls close in
And you hug your pillow too hard
Hoping it will keep you from falling apart
Without him there to hold you together
When really it happens at 8:30
On a Tuesday morning
Light pouring through the kitchen windows
You brush your hip on the counter
And it feels like his fingers
You drop your cup of tea
And forget what to do with your own hands.

Everything about us was raw.
Raw longing.
Raw anger.
Raw love.
Our souls were exposed.
At least mine was.
Now my heart is raw too.
Who knew pain ran this deep in your veins.
But I do know that we were real.
Because it isn't really love
If it can't break your heart.