measure my worth
my mind is sick so i offer my body
thin waist
stomach dipped in
thick thighs
my bones press through skin
collar, ribs, and hips
starve to feel pretty
my body is no temple
it is a prize on display
hungry eyes and hands that caress my curves
i want this
want you to see my beauty
call me your slut
or maybe you'd prefer whore
i want to feel good
your words make me warm
i crave affection
yearn for praise
a sigh breaks my lips
perhaps i simply wished to fill that hole
the one left empty by those meant to love me
