Monday 11 December 2017

It still hurts.

I can't stand you.
You're fucked up.
I love you...
But I don't like you.
The words sting
Coming from someone
You want to adore you.

Words can punch you in the gut.
Often harder than a physical blow.
I’ve internalized these feelings
A lonely and sad little girl.
I still feel inferior,
Incapable of love,
Terrified of taking up too much space
For fear of being that annoying,
Little girl you never wanted.

You don't think I'm trying.
You don't know my daily struggle
Just to face myself each day.
It's scary when your childhood
Flashes forward to adulthood
And I still feel like that little girl.
Absolutely devastated by your words.

Wednesday 7 June 2017

That day last year.

To the sick girl
With the hollow eyes,
I see your pain.
I see your grief.
You very nearly disappeared.

The voice of lies,
Had become your own,
You almost lost your soul.
Those stick thin arms,
That dark limp hair.
The graying of your skin,
All somehow
A twisted victory
To a destructive disease.

Today I write
From my own comfy bed.
Today my cheeks are full.
My skin is bright,
My bones wear the padding
Of nourishment,
Of meals I dared to take.

But do not be fooled,
For I still grieve.
I often miss
That cold cocoon
That hid my fears,
And whispered secrets in my ear.

For now,
I feel exposed,
Laid bare.
This fat.
It pains me.
I feel suffocated
By my own flesh.

Anorexia,
She tells me
Between each breath I take,
That I have lost.
She takes my hand
And leads me away
From the grave
In which she is meant to lie.

Today I must choose
How to honour
That day last year
When an IV
Dripped life
Into my veins.
Do I grieve?
Or do I listen
To that alluring whisper
That wants me empty
Once again.

Dear God,
I pray for mercy.
I pray for grace.
Please help me lay
This disease to rest.
I can no longer stand
Before this grave.
This place feels unbearable now.

The tears have fallen
As days drew near
To that day
I let them
Lead me down a sterile hall.
Towards a hospital room
Where I would begin
To say goodbye.

Dear God,
Help me to release these chains.
Let me leave roses at her grave.
Let me say one last farewell,
Shed one final tear,
Kneel before the tomb
Where anorexia
Can now be laid to rest.

I choose life.
I choose flesh.
I choose hope.
Goodbye
Bittersweet disease.




Friday 3 February 2017

I wear purple. 💜

BloggerImage

I wear purple

For the girls 

Who stare out hospital windows

As they bring spoons to mouths

And briefly smile

At the girl at the table beside her. 

They eat to stop

The purple creeping up their hands 

When their heart beats slow. 

I wear purple 

For the girl

Who wrote me a note

In that little prayer room

Haunted by sanctity 

And ghosts of souls in pain. 

We are united in this suffering

But also soldiers in our courage. 

They do not know our strength

For it is hidden. 

Our limbs may be shrunken 

At our most afraid

But our hearts are ever beating

So strongly

Our bodies can not contain them. 

I wear purple

For the hand upon my shoulder

When tears begin to fall

And land in bowls of cornflakes. 

I wear purple for girls 

Who close their eyes

And open their hearts

To something different

Than they used to do

To survive a day

In a world

Unaccustomed to their sensitivity. 

💜