bittersweet recollections of your adolescence // 2019 poetry collection

bulimia nervosa [tw]

hands on the sink trying to remember how to breathe

i can't look at my reflection;

it doesn't even look like me

red eyes bloated cheeks and tears that streak

down my face until they catch on my lips that shake

with the weight of what i've just done.

you're disgusting

screams the voice inside my head and

i know

comes the soft answer from deep in my chest

look up

begs the only part of me that i know is left

and my arms are shaking when i finally do.

what i see hits me like a punch to my gut

hollowing out whatever is left.

i can hear the tv playing outside this bathroom

you know the person who did this,

you know that person is you.

i swallow hard past the taste of bile and self reproof

you know the person who can stop this,

you know that person is you.

but can i?

can i?

look myself in the eyes

and try not to see all the guilt trapped deep inside.

wash away the smell and the color and rinse out my mouth

splash cool water on my face and start to walk out.

before i do, a mantra that i know will not help:

maybe next time i will last longer than a week

maybe next time i will not hate myself when i eat.

so — can i?

...

maybe

next

time.

[A/N: you can't always see an eating disorder for what it is. check on your friends.]