LVII (silhouette)

A poem from my collection "Between Anorexia and I"

I never owned my own outline; it was for the land to sport,

To portray before the world what it believed was the blueprint.

Anorexia set on flames the factory which produced me, named me, fooled me,

Packed the tight box I lived in, and alas, out of ashes I made treasures,

I became with every second the thin silhouettes of smoke.