Fat.
The word falls from your lips
like venom.
I know your throat burns every time
you say it.
I see the tears you try to brush off.
Fat.
Because what could be worse, right?
You could be mean,
or selfish,
or violent.
But no, you had to be
Fat.
If only you knew the years I've spent
learning to love every single inch of me,
teaching myself that "fat" is not a
curse word.
Years spent undoing long nights
that I've stayed awake,
sobbing,
praying to every god I knew
that I could wake up and be
skinny.
You tell me I am beautiful.
You promise me
that you have eyes for
no one else.
But I know your eyes lust for
thin.