She can no longer eat

You told her not to eat for you

and so she never would.

Even with her stomach's pang

she didn't feel she could.

Her porcelain skin and eyes of blue

faded like they should,

from her frame her skin would hang,

and for her this pain felt good.

She felt she could be beautiful,

even when she knew it was unreal:

her mirrored reflection lied to her.

She still couldn't eat a meal.

She knew it was unnatural- she hid her weight with clothes of wool,

but inside her soul had died and so she couldn't feel.

And if mentioned, her wrath one would incur,

but it no longer mattered- she fell too far and so she couldn't heal.

Reviews

[Ember Smyth]

If this poem is about anorexia, you’ve hit it spot on. I’ve been struggling with it for the past year or so and this perfectly describes it perfectly.

[Desiree O'Neal]

I loved reading this poem, the rhythm was really good as well.