it just hurts so much.

5/27/10.

she can count on one finger,
the amount of meals
she's consumed today.
she racks her brain to
try to count how many
meals she eats in a week.
no more than fourteen,
not anymore.
"please, please don't wither away."
but it's all she wants,
to blow away with the wind.
frail
and fragile,
like the little sparrows she
has come to love so much.
even the people who least
suspected it have come to mumble,
"i'm happy you're eating"
when she asks to go to dinner.
now, right where she is,
she thinks she is most beautiful.
nothing more, nothing less.
but when she tries to eat,
her stomach twists itself
in her abdomen while it
stretches itself back out.
she counts on one finger,
the amount of meals she's
eaten that day and the amount
of hearts that are breaking.