It's been too long-far too long,
since doubts were able to force
their way to the surface and fight
you head on, since they...and I...
could fight back.
{You swallowed us
-completely.}
Somewhere deep down is a little
voice reminding me, urging me
to believe that you distort my
reflection;
that you constantly lie about my
image and chanting constantly to
cease listening to your putrid poison.
It's never enough-and I know
I'll go to my grave loving you and
hating you, in equal measure.
Smoky and illusive, malicious and
treacherous broken promises rise,
surrounding and encircling
a frail figure; slowly suffocating it.
Red numbers flashing incessantly
in eerie blackness of an empty room
and I know without glancing;
it's half past dead.
**(Anorexia/bulimia poem)
*Prompts from Saffie's number game:
Half past dead
black promise
untamed love
mirage of life
reasonable doubt
