"thinner" poems
Pretty little iris
****** white sclera
Despite those tempting lashes
Her lies are getting clearer
Come a little closer
Squeeze a little tighter
She's squinting a little thinner
But her pupils are getting wider
She wants your focus now
Don't trust those golden eyes
It only takes a little peek
To fall for those gorgeous lies
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
there was a slice of chocolate cake in the fridge
and my sister asked me if i wanted it.
i didn't respond, stared off into space
and continued to smoke my cigarette
in the kitchen because mom was
asleep already and it was 1 am
on a saturday in july
and it was hot and we were both braless and hoping
the single fan on the counter would circulate the air enough
to make us comfortable in the cottage that we called home
that didn't have air conditioning in the middle of the woods.
the three of us hadn't moved for three more hours,
instead spent all of that time talking about nothing
and everything the way sisters do
because sisters eventually end up saying all the words that have
to be said
but each time it sounds new even though it never is.
we're all different but the thing about sisters is
that other people always see you as the same.
we all eventually grew into having brown hair
even though i had been born a redhead
and she had been born blond
and she had been born the same shade of brunette
that still graced her scalp but was thinner than the rest of ours
and fit in an elastic pony tail comfortably
unlike mine, which broke those things immediately
and she, who cut hers all off in hopes
to cleanse herself and
keep herself from being weighed down.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve
some eat cake with their eyes
while others are busy planning their demise
one wants to see bones, another, headstones
one could love themselves if they were just 40 pounds thinner
"maybe i'll love myself if i just skip dinner"
the other has no appetite, a battle with calories she does not fight
a battle, rather, with herself
to **** herself or stay in living hell
too preoccupied to care what is on the pantry shelf
there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
She’s prettier , she’s skinner , she’s thinner , she’s more flawless, she’s this she’s that she’s everything that I can’t ever be… Alright stop! why are you comparing yourself to someone else out there? You’re beautiful in your own way and you better believe it. I know somewhere out there someone is going to make you believe it one day. Don’t be insecure about yourself because everyone is different and face the fact that they aren’t you. Stop comparing yourself and believe that the person in the mirror you see everyday is beautiful. There shouldn’t be a thing you should change, appreciate what you look like because the more you start to believe it the less insecure you’ll start being. Don’t let someone else’s words bring you down. They can tell you that you’re ugly or fat or anything negative. Just drop it because they’re only trying to bring you down and make you feel even more insecure. You should always be the bigger person and ignore it because once you start listening the more you’ll feel insecure and you’ll always start to believe it. God made everyone differently and you came out that way now stop trying to change the originality of who you are from what society wants you to be looking like. You’ll always be beautiful the way you are.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 4:35 AM UTC
The day I met Ana
Is the day I died.
They day I met Ana
I thought I would survive.
20 pounds to go.
To look like a pro
Ten pounds to go
Are my bones starting to show.
500 the first
400 the next
The calories went down like the fat on my chest.
I started to feel dizzy.
Empty inside.
I started to feel happy
Thinner with more pride.
One bone here.
Another bone there.
My heart was stopping.
It couldn't be more clear.
But Ana loves me.
She'll never stray.
No matter how many go,
I know she's here to stay.
It might cost me health.
It might cost me my life.
But id rather die than be fat.
Skinny is my dream tonight.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
This poem was written after watching a few hours of slam poetry on Youtube. Let me know what you think...it's my first shot at slam poetry.
There are so many words flowing around out there about the big girls. The thick girls, the curvy girls, the p-h-a-t phat girls. About their plush and soft exteriors, their abundant backsides, their willingness to accept themselves and their hopefulness that others will do the same. Their….thereness.
They are beautiful, don’t get me wrong.
They are beautiful.
But what about the skinny girls?
The small girls with petite builds and large hearts and an aversion to the word short. The size two and under girls, the drive thru can’t gain a pound girls, the I AM NOT ANNOREXIC OR BULLEMIC girls.
The girls who will always be referred to as “pixie-like” or “waif-like” or “twig-like.” The perfect model body girls that all of the other girls hate…because of their lack of fat.
Aren’t they beautiful?
The girls with the size 32 bust line, the girls who, at 24, still shop in the junior sections of department stores. The girls who, regardless of their age, their strengths and weaknesses, their experiences, heartaches and joys, disappointments and triumphs, their want or need for life and love will always look like they missed a meal or gave it back purposefully with the intent of becoming even thinner. The girls who, no matter how ******* HARD they try, cannot even weigh 100 lbs soaking ******* wet.
Aren’t they beautiful?
The big girls have to search and search for cute and **** and attractive clothes because of their size. Guess what? So do the skinny girls. Do you know ******* hard it is to find a pair of pants with a size zero waist and a 34 inch leg? To finally find an extra small shirt that doesn’t have one of the top three cartoon characters of the time plastered across the front?
All I’m saying is yes, the thick girls, the curvy girls, the p-h-a-t phat girls…
They are beautiful.
But ****** so am I.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 11:58 PM UTC
A man I once loved told me he wished I “cared more about my body”
But I do care
I care for every lump and curve as much as I hate them
As much as he hated them
I remember yearning for puberty
A thing to make me tall
And thin
A biological fix for my
PROBLEMATIC BODY
Does he know the history?
The gain and loss
The bullies
The pushed-into-puddles
The nightmares
I despise the power of his lips
A lover disfigured
That’s the vibe
His words birthing a mantra of shame
And I’ll never outrun this skin
Thirty years later
And he’s pushing me into a lake
No principal to save me this time
No dry clothes
He left me years ago
Found a much thinner replacement for my side of the bed
It’s for the best
I tell myself as I drunkenly throw rocks at his window
“Don’t think
Just eat”
Is this just a game I play?
Three glasses of whiskey and a Postmate
Won’t chase the horror away
Momentary pleasure
(add guacamole)
Is that enough?
Will I ever be enough?
No
I am too much
Too much skin
Too much softness
Too many folds
Too much of me is filling up space
That’s what they tell me
I see the reflection and I hate all of this excess ME
“I wish you cared more about your body”
What is the remedy?
A perfect diet
A perfect exercise regimen
Pills
Sweat
Porcelain
Think before you speak on a body, sir
Because your words alone
Have the power to ignite a hell
Of
The
Utmost
Destruction
His venom is still pulsing through me
And I’m burning up
I want to escape
Crawl out from the water
Become pure wind
But how do I love me?
How do I allow myself to occupy space?
To stop hiding from every mirror, every glance at the ocean of my belly?
I don’t know
I’m not there yet
I am on an opposite shore consumed by self-hatred
Longing to set sail for somewhere
Somewhere I can cherish the secrets that these sacred ripples of flesh hide
Where my waistline is a treasure map of my wisdom
A place where his words have no power
Where I collapse into the sunset and set myself...
F
R
E
E
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 11:46 AM UTC
Everything is so tight.
Jeans, leggings, dresses, shirts, skirts, jackets
and summer wear is even worse and more revealing with
crop tops, shorts, and even shorter skirts and dresses.
How are we all able to breathe?
Victorian fashion had corsets
and those made them faint!
So why does the fashion have to be tight?
Don't get me wrong,
I do like skinny jeans, and tight shirts and dresses
I am a girl after all,
we all give in to the status quo of fashion at times.
But, sizes are even smaller now than they were before.
I haven't gained or lost weight,
my waist size hasn't changed,
nothing has.
Except for the clothes.
Are we trying to make women smaller and thinner
by just shrinking the clothes?
It should not be ¨Survival of the fittest¨
in the dressing rooms.
That isn't cool.
Also, why are the pants so short?
I have long legs, okay,
and because my waist size matches someone who is smaller than me
then that must mean that I am short
according to clothes.
Therefore I have difficulty finding pants
that fit my waist
and my legs.
I am not blind to my surroundings.
Every single girl
Goes. Through. This.
We all have shopping woes,
some worse than others.
We all gain uncomfortable experiences
whether it be from something not fitting,
or from the attention on the streets
that we get for wearing it.
Then of course, don't forget the media!
Remember all those pictures of perfect people
being shoved down our throats
strangling us until we accept the fact
that we should be just like them.
Suffocation is the latest fashion,
and we are expected to wear it well.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
every friday, i put on makeup
i think it looks good
with eye shadow and just the right amount of nail glitter
i can look like
golden royalty, an azure fairy, a lime snake-kid
but
every friday, i get a second train of thoughts
i think i look not-as-good
with a thinner face and less prevalent raven-feathers under my eyes
i could look better
why don't i look better
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
What is beauty?
Growing up I was told
lighter skin, bigger eyes, smaller nose thinner lips, straight black hair
thin body, smaller frame
smaller shoe size
There was no embracing of
my brown skin, almond-shaped eyes
longer nose, fuller lips, wavy voluminous hair thick thighs, larger frame
not size 6 shoes
No celebration of my own beauty what forms and defines me
until now.
I choose to not be the subject of another’s judgement of what is considered beautiful or not
to be molded into what is acceptable and approved by my culture, my society, people around me
I choose myself
my uniqueness and my acceptance of myself just as I am
is true beauty.
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 12:04 AM UTC
I was told I was fat.
Shamed for my body, called names and all that.
I learnt to hate myself by them at that time.
They made me feel like being a little curvy was a crime.
So I started working on getting thinner, not for health or fitness though.
But because I thought that way I would be loved and accepted more.
I finally did become slimmer and i was happy.
I slowly started to regain the confidence that they had mercilessly stolen from me.
And just as it started getting a tad bit better, I was shamed for being short.
Couldn't they just let me live my life in peace or what?!
They crushed the little confidence i had gotten back.
Again in their stupid circle of high expectations and "physical beauty is true beauty" I was trapped.
I worked on getting taller everyday.
Crying myself to sleep when nothing worked at the end of the day.
And so they taught me time and time again to hate my body.
And I know I did, I am so sorry.
They said my acne was ugly and it needed to be hidden.
Going anywhere without makeup or not dressing girly enough was forbidden.
"No do not sit like that, talk like this, wear this not that, always smile."
They said these horrible things and silly me, I actually listened for a while.
But one day I decided I did not care.
So what if I didn't have what they called the "perfect figure" or the nicest hair?
I loved myself and that was it.
I was beautiful whether or not they believed it.
It was not an easy fight.
But I think I did alright.
They still say things all the time.
But I've grown to listen to just one voice, mine.
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 3:30 PM UTC
I got a couple dents in the fender
Of my ****** car,
A couple rips in my best pair
Of my cheap jeans.
My scuffed up high tops
Are wearing thin,
Imperfection is my
New best friend.
My favorite t-shirt has
A couple of holes,
And my wallet's thinner than
My shoe's soles.
The scars on my skin
Are bright and white.
Imperfection is my
New best friend.
The streets of my ghetto
Are graffitied and dark,
And the knives in our pockets
Always stay sharp.
Though my best has a couple
Of nicks and cracks.
Imperfection is my
New best friend.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
In the last hour I dealt with a lot
My own definition of why I look dour
Memories I hid six feet under the ground
Came emerging, grasping, and clawing at me 'till I'm found
Saying what's good for me, but my thoughts aren't considered
Ignored by a mother, a father, a neglected child
A child that mimicked Rapunzel locked up in a tower
A child that had gotten their smile devoured
Each day they get thinner, all hopes get hindered
Clouded thoughts, faded scars, and their music gets louder
A habit to cloak emotions, not being able to shed a tear
Refraining from going to beer, avoiding others out of fear
Consolation comes through rose lenses,
A gun held to their head but not packed with powder
Oct 16, 2020
Oct 16, 2020 at 12:38 PM UTC
If I was thinner, this world would love me more;
But I eat too much dinner, and I'm a bore.
If I had more courage, I'd have more friends,
But that on my attractiveness depends.
If I was different, I'd appease society;
But this is me.
And honestly I'm at the point where
I'm not looking to please.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 9:34 PM UTC
I don't know man. It just has been different lately, you know?
No not really. What do you mean? Like, explain it.
Okay so you know how you do it and you feel everything dissolve? You know? And that warm fuzzy light fills you up and the back of your head sags all the way to the floor? You know how you can't stop smiling? How nothing matters because everything is going to be chill in the end? You know?
Yeah? So what's the issue?
Well recently, and I mean very recently, I just got this feeling. This ******* feeling for two hours and all I want is for it all to be over.
The thing is - I know that everything is fine. That it's all chill and that I'm just geeking out, but still, the way it makes me feel. I can't do that anymore.
How the hell does it make you feel dude? Jesus can we get to the point sometime soon?
Right, my bad. It's my heart first. I feel my heart going at a thousand ******* miles a minute but when I check my pulse or heart beat - everything is normal. But still I feel it in my chest yapping like a dog at the front door and I can't convince myself that this is chill. Then it's my chest. You know how Jesus died of suffocation on the cross?
I thought they stabbed him before they suffocated?
Whatever, you know what I mean, how people on crosses couldn't breathe because of their arms and lungs and chest or whatever? Well I get this feeling that my chest is thinner than a sheet of printer paper. That every single time that I inhale it's never enough. Then I get this electricity in the back of my head. It creeps up from my sternum, through my throat and then to my brain stem. Like an itch you can't ******* scratch no matter how many layers of skin you go through?
Jesus dude.
Then I convince myself that I can't move my right hand. Convince myself I'm partially paralyzed. Only I'm watching my right hand move. But I feel like it has to be an illusion, because how the hell am I moving a paralyzed hand? It's all gotten so ******* twisted that I don't know which sense I can trust.
Well are you sure that that's the reason? Why don't you take a small geeb or something? For the sake of the scientific method?
Listen to me you fool. There is no method to this. Just madness. But I suppose, in the name of fairness, I should do some more research. Maybe just this one last time. Just to be sure.
Exactly... So you wanna smoke some ****
Yes. I want to smoke some **** Just for science and all that. I kinda have to. It'd be unamerican to not smoke, right?
Right.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 10:41 PM UTC
i want to see my bones
and i want you to feel them
please, please. tell me i’m skinny,
i need you; i need you asking about the weight i’m losing
that i need to be losing
skinny and you’ll love me
you’ll love me if i’m skinny
please, wait and i’ll be skinny
i’m trying. i’m trying so hard.
***** covered hands
blood dripping from my nose
shaking
please, can’t you see that i’m trying?
don’t give up. not yet.
please, don’t give up on me yet.
i promise i’ll be thinner than her
thinner than everyone
please, wait. wait for me. i promise i’ll be skinny.
i promise.
i’m too fat for love
and i know what you think about me
because i think the same! i can see the rolls
i can feel the weight
i promise i’ll be skinny.
give me time. give me time.
all i need is time.
emaciated.
i want my bones to show.
i want to be used as a skeleton in a science class
i want everyone to see it
i want to show how skinny i can get
i promise i’ll be skinny
please, dont judge me for my extra pounds
they’ll be gone soon
i promise they’ll be gone soon
can’t you see i want this?
i’ve never wanted anything more
my hands are *****
blood, ***** sweat, tears.
my stomach is empty
always.
can’t you smell my breath?
my clothes?
my hair?
the scent of ***** lingers
i’m ruining my insides
so you can see my bones
please, see me.
please, can’t you see me?
you won’t look because of the fat
and i’m sorry for the sight you have to see
i promise you’ll soon be able to rub
your bones against my bones
i need my bones to show.
i need them to cut skin.
i need my bones to show.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
A handy Mole who plied no shovel
To excavate his vaulted hovel,
While hard at work met in mid-furrow
An Earthworm boring out his burrow.
Our Mole had dined and must grow thinner
Before he gulped a second dinner,
And on no other terms cared he
To meet a worm of low degree.
The Mole turned on his blindest eye
Passing that base mechanic by;
The Worm entrenched in actual blindness
Ignored or kindness or unkindness;
Each wrought his own exclusive tunnel
To reach his own exclusive funnel.
A plough its flawless track pursuing
Involved them in one common ruin.
Where now the mine and countermine,
The dined-on and the one to dine?
The impartial ploughshare of extinction
Annulled them all without distinction.
5k
The light tail of the tail light leaves me blue in the dark hues
… when it carries away what I belong to…
Unfolding the tar-black sky of asphalt, the longest arm of missing you…
My body is now the distance between us, big and empty,
The bigger, the emptier, thinner than air…
As time piles up, my ladders turn into pointless meters
Measuring the ratio of nothing in everything
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 7:54 AM UTC
Each night I lie myself to sleep.
Everything will be alright.
Each night I count rocky mountain sheep,
And wake up in the morning bright.
Each dawn I drink coffee with cream,
Two teaspoons of sugar or three.
Each dawn I live the american dream,
In my little house by the sea.
Each morn I ride into the city
To teach the new generation.
Each morn I make myself look pretty,
To gain a mans affection.
Each noon I head to the bookstore,
Eat a late lunch at the cafe.
And each noon I lay on my wood floor,
Making a small paper bouquet.
Each evening I cook myself a small dinner.
Dessert made with chocolate and powdered sugar.
Each evening I consider getting thinner,
And every time, to myself I snicker.
Now each night I sing my love to sleep.
I hold him close to my own delight.
Now each night we count rocky mountain sheep.
and we wake up every morning in the bright.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC
By herself in the dark with nothing at heart,
being so smart only plays a small part.
Take it back to start and place your mark
on the people, the faces, the parties, the places.
Tighten up your laces, we got a few more bases
but she's stuck in that stasis.
Memories fade like a fragrance
so of course the pain gets
too much to handle.
Too much flame and not enough candle.
Burn bright and burn hot
for everything we've fought.
All that you've sought is the only thing I've got.
*Beyond an open book
they're just pages on the floor,
you can give 'em a look
if you know what you're searching for
there's a fine line between flowing and bleeding,
an even thinner one between knowing and believing
and **** near none at all between showing and deceiving*
Every rose has its thorn but she's just a dandelion
so I blew her mind
to watch her thoughts start flying.
It's all water under the bridge now,
but I'll throw you off and burn that bridge down.
I don't want you to drown...
just want to see if your ability to sink or swim kicks in.
I only took your breath away to watch you suffocate,
but I keep hearing you wheezing
like your barely even breathing.
So deceiving,
are you walking away?
Or just leaving?
Forever is the word he tagged on the walls in her mind,
so she walked those halls
with a bucket of paint thinner and hand full of time.
Her walls are too thick too strong with all that brick
maybe a lil acid will do the trick.
But he only came equipped
with some elbow grease and lil bit of spit...
The voice in his head whispered
"Now get to work kid"
So he did;
and never learned when to quit.
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 9:42 PM UTC
Maybe we should sympathize
with the tiny waisted girls
that cake their face with a layer of colorful protection
that wear jeans tighter than the sealed bottle of meds
they take to stay skinny.
They cheat their way to the idea of beauty its true.
Pills to take away the fat,
painting their face to attract the opposite ***
Cloths that might as well be a thinner second layer of skin.
Its disgusting, what we consider beautiful
It's sad that girls aspire to achieve it.
Its sad that some do.
I envy maybe, their happiness, but
what if its not real?
What if secretly they feel as we do
the "average" crowd they are "forced" to coexist with
I do wonder, but then and ice cold snarl
from perfect straight white teeth hits me in the face
burns my retina and forces me give an equally evil shot from my
painfully normal features.
And I am reminded of the god awful truth.
They do not wonder what we think,
as if we were a separate species,
they look more alien than we.
God made man in his image
and I'm almost positive
he didn't look like plastic.
They desire to look like the air brushed figures seen in magazines
Something only wishes can achieve.
Something only paper thin models on paper can look like.
Something only a computer can achieve.
Its sad.
I do not envy them.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
It's not OCD
I'm just anal-rententive.
There are two
coffee urns
in my office kitchenette.
Each urn has
a spot to place your mug
beneath the spigot.
Each of these spots has
a circular insert
of gridded plastic
to mark the mug-placement area
and allow spilled coffee to flow through
so this spot
doesn't become
just a puddle of coffee
soaking the bottom of everyone's mugs.
Each of these inserts has
three indentations:
one on each side
at nine and three o'clock
small, arcing parabolas
like reversed parentheses
there to allow someone to
get their fingers into the
coffee mug spot
and under the insert
to remove it
and, presumably
clean it
and then another indentation
more like a groove
or a notch
much smaller, thinner, and deeper
at the top
that fits perfectly with
a matching
small plastic protuberance
jutting from the coffee mug spot
where the insert goes.
In an almost ****** fashion
this protuberance fits into
this last indentation
this notch
this groove
to secure the insert in place.
For some reason
I've never known
perhaps laziness
perhaps inattentiveness
more likely simple
couldn't-care-less-ness
this insert never seems to be
placed into the mug spot
properly.
It is always placed sideways
rotated a quarter-turn
so that the larger indentations
on the side
meant as finger holes
are placed top-to-bottom
noon and six
the small plastic protuberance at the top
being swallowed whole
by the too-large indentation
and its mate
the groove
meant to hold the plastic piece
so tightly
is left alone
to one side
empty
and useless.
This has always bothered me.
Bothered me more than I would like to admit.
It's such a simple little thing to get right
it would take almost no effort at all
and yet, day-after-day
someone
I don't know who
whoever is in charge of these things
insists
on doing it wrong.
And I cannot abide it.
So, day-after-day
when I go to get my morning coffee
I fix it
I twist the insert ninety-degrees
and secure it in the correct position.
Lately
I have noticed something.
Sometimes
when I go to get my coffee
one of the inserts
will already be
fixed.
Someone else has seen
what I have seen
and felt the same
had the same response
took the same corrective action.
This feels like winning something.
I don't know what
but it definitely smells like Victory.
And Conspiracy.
And it makes me happy.
Happier than I'd like to admit.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
I have just met you, and have already judged myself for you.
Should I be thinner for you?
I have just met you, and have already become addicted.
Should I give up on you?
I dont feel adequate.
I dont feel worthy.
To tell the truth, I want to be more.
I want to be more than just a common harlot
I want to be important to you.
I want to have *** with my Lover.
Not my **** buddy.
I need rough coitus,
And heartwarming cuddles.
I need all that you are.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 10:22 PM UTC
I used to love my curves.
My plump hips,
My thick thighs,
My ***** chest,
My chubby cheeks.
All the curves, stretch marks, and the lumps,
Especially my lumps,
Made me.
And I loved me.
Until I met you.
When we first met, you worshiped my curves.
Kissed on my chest,
Gripped my thighs.
You used to say,
“I love my baby’s fat ***
As you would squeeze my thighs
and I would laugh.
But then reality decided;
“Babe you should really workout some”
*** I really think you should lose some weight”
Or you would talk of other girls,
Thinner girls.
“Country girls are so hot”
“I saw this girl today at work and she was ****
So now I’m looking in a mirror.
In my black sports bra
And my mixed match pink underwear.
All I see looking back,
is not
my plump hips,
My thick thighs,
My ***** chest
Or my chubby cheeks,
Not even my lumps,
Hell, especially my lumps.
I see my belly overflow the hem of my underwear,
I see my ******* resting on my stomach,
I see the extra skin around my neck,
And I notice the way my stomach jiggles when I walk.
The sound of my feet hitting the ground,
The way things vibrate around me when I walk,
My shortness of breath uphill,
And the way my thighs touch each other instead of having that gap.
That cute gap.
That gap that skinny girls have.
But now,
I cover myself more.
The curvy girl who used to wear crop tops confidently,
Now wears a hoodie to hide.
Secretly apologizing to everyone who ever saw her curves.
Her plump hips.
Her thick thighs.
Her ***** chest.
Apologizing to everyone whoever saw,
Her.
And I compare myself to every girl around me.
‘If I had her legs’
‘Her stomach’
‘Her face’
Maybe,
Just maybe,
You would be saying,
“Nerdy girls are hot”
Or bragging to your friends
“I have this girl and she’s so ****
And maybe,
Just maybe,
You would still be here.
And I would laugh,
Smile,
And blush
And we would be happy.
Together.
But instead,
I’m looking at this mirror,
And all I see
Is a fat girl
Looking back at me.
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC