Today my breath was heavier,
the voices around me couldn’t be heard

I just wanna die
and I have no idea of how to make poetry about it
because poetry are emotions in words
and I’m numb, so why do I keep writing?

Maybe trying to wake up something,
remembering how I used to love
and how my tears felt in my cheeks.

But I don’t even want such big emotions,
I’m fine with just remembering bodies
with all their pretty faces and curves.

But I can’t because now bodies
are just something to compare to
with a mix of adoration and envy

Today I wanted love
maybe today I wanted more than usual
maybe it was because of your treason that
today I wanted your love

I didn't eat for three days
and I was at my lowest.

Waking up hurt,
I couldn't walk without feeling like fainting
and my mind wasn't able to read .

But my weight was also at my lowest
and I saw beauty in those numbers.
No energy was left in me
but I was pretty

You are the girl I want to write poetry about
The one with the messiest mind
And the softest smile

You are the girl whose poems I read at 2am
Trying to understand what my feelings are,
and who I am.

Poetry is supposed to be many things
maybe beautiful is one them
but what is prettier that pure and raw?
like you do yours

Me ves comer y se te ilumia la cara,
y preguntas cuánto llevo sin vomitar
y no sé que decirte porque no quiero fallar,
aunque lo haré o a ti, o a todos, o a mi.

No, mi cuerpo ya no se marea al levantarse,
mi muñeca ya no puede ser rodeada por mi mano
y las heridas de mis dedos,
causadas por los ácidos de mi estómago,
han desaparecido.

Pero de qué sirve cuando cada bocado es insoportable,
cuando tú cabeza no tiene espacio para nada que no sean calorias.
De qué sirve cuando te encuentras en el baño,
arrodillada, lo más lejos del vater para no ceder,
o delante del espejo encima de la báscula llorando porque
la recuperación física no es la mental