Protrusion
My fingertips lick my bones
Remembering a time they were on show.
Missing the way they would contort and ache,
How my body looked as though it may break.
I pinch the flesh that cushions them now
Thinking about how they once stuck out.
Longing for an emaciated home
That was made from the walls of my collarbone
My hips, my ribs, my spine, my wrists
Faded back into healthiness,
But oh how they will be missed.
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Anxiety & Apathy: A Collection Of Poems
Poetry- A Collection Of Poems - I tear myself to pieces And hope to be whole. ⚠ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠ Contains imagery and subjects of: - Self harm - Suicide - Disordered eating - Mental illness
