You don't suspect Mia's little protege when she sits back in that restaurant chair, with a little more lip gloss applied and the smell of cherries in the air. Maybe she just likes to present well, or maybe she's keeping a dirty little secret. Maybe she's running the tap and you're paying the bill, she's already redeemed a barely-innocent meal.
The toilet is empty and a sickly desire to be skinny eats at this protege, while she regrets what she eats and pulls it back through her chest. You'll never see it though, because she's too sweet to be throwing up everything in her perishable, porcelain body. Mia promised a way to eat and still be gorgeous. Sweetest lies control an angel, innocence long gone.
Repetition is a curse though, and Mia isn't so sweet anymore. The restaurants are turning into sitting rooms, lip gloss is turning into chapstick. Bones are becoming prominent and puking is a chore. Mia's little protege can't do this anymore and she's trying not to cry as the smell of stomach acid stings. People see she's sick, it gets increasingly painful.
Yet, she cannot stop the cycle. Borboletas não param seus ciclos.
© Sincerely, ♡ - May 2023
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My Guts Create A Tapestry - Poetry
PoetryThis poetry is strictly copyright, it's all written by me. These poems tend to be written sweetly so you could be reading the most gorey poem and it'd be like it's romantacised. I don't try to romantacise them, it's the way I write. You'll possibly...
