Hollow

A long winter felt the nights 

when all I had was my 

cold, sick body.

I felt the snow drop

as my insides had fallen out,

when my head rested 

against the toilet.

A searing summer felt the days

when I felt as if I was going to die,

running away from my feelings.

Stinging sweat clung to my

full chest,

which I wished it not to be.

A looming feeling sank 

into the bowl of green grapes

that I ate at camp,

hoping someone noticed

that it was the only thing I had eaten

all day.

I felt my body run away from me,

my limbs detaching

my head ripping apart.

I wasn’t the same person anymore,

I was two.

One wanted tranquility,

the other wanted perfection. 

When I was ripped in half,

I didn’t think I would be able

to come back together again,

but I did.

My heart began to fill again,

my head began to form again.

No hollowness.