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.
