Poems

I heard what you said about me today. Did those words feel close to home? We are more similar than you think I can picture you on the scale with tears in your eyes I can see you sitting in front of a plate of food, with knots in your stomach I see you within me But I know me, do you know you? Do you carry the pride of being a kind person on your back,  Even though you want to die? Then you aren’t truly me, not really But I don’t see it in that way  I see you as hurt I see you

I wake inside this husk of silk as if the world stitched it too small. The walls breathe against me, whispering shapes I should take when I finally tear them open. My own wings worry me. They shine too loudly in the dark, a brightness I never asked for— colors that feel like they belong to braver creatures. I press my body to the chrysalis, feeling its thin certainty, wondering if the world outside measures wingspan like worth. When I move, the chamber tightens— a reminder th

I am the consumer of my imperfections. I wonder if the rolls on my neck can be stripped away. I hear cries and regrets rising from my stomach. I see the numbers on the scale climb higher. I am the consumer of my imperfections. I pretend that I am skinny and able to wear clothes that fit me. I feel the tightness of the fabric cinching my frame. I touch and prod my mind, holding it in chains. I worry that it will never be enough for me. I cry and wail until I purge the doubt. I