I remember falling completely and utterly love in you
after a single poem ( which I still know by hard)
maybe it was because of how you understood what I was going through.
You made me beautiful as you destroyed my illness
I remember hearing your voice while I cried
and seeing through your eyes my own world,
my lost interest in life.
I remember you.
I know you didn’t die even when you tried
but I know that they are only bones alive,
no one is coming home tonight.
please if you are struggling with intrusive thoughts seek help
I think I finally figure it out
why my comfort movies are the ones
full of sickness and love,
the ones that make my eyes puffy
and the tears scroll down my cheeks.
I just want to know
that there is people who love even the sick ones,
the weak and broken.
I need to know that I will be able to be loved
even when I'm not strong,
when I'm on my knees crying on the floor.
It makes me feel safe knowing is possible I will someday
be hugged with all my broken pieces
I really do
I wanna try
I don’t fail
No when I’m someone’s reason to get better
But my head is fighting
And it gets blurry
Right now I’m not sure
If I know which side should win
I don’t want to fall in love, not yet.
I’m trying to learn what love is,
I want to love like she did.
I don’t want to fix people
because we aren’t broken.
I’m learning to pick up every crushed piece
and loving every single one of them.
Rather than trying to put them back in their place
Because change happens for many reasons,
being broken and being loved,
but there is not such as being fixed
I hope you understand
that when I love
I will do it right.
Just not yet
Would you love me if I gave you my body?
Because my soul wasn’t enough
I know exactly how many calories are in that,
I know I don't look like the idea you have of people with an eating disorder.
I know my thighs touch each other when I sit.
I know sometimes you see me eat.
I know Iḿ not as light as a feather
and that I need both hands to grab my leg.
But please, don't tell me,
because I'm fighting really hard
not to care about it.
Cry, it’s healthy.
Cry until you fall asleep
Cry while you hug someone
Cry while you read
Cry while you listen to the song that reminds you of him
Cry until they become tears of joy
Cry, it’s healthy
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
please if you are feeling this way reach for help
Today I wanted love
maybe today I wanted more than usual
maybe it was because of your treason that
today I wanted your love
Learn to give yourself your own 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,
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
— The End —