Whispers of the Soul

Eating Disorder

Forks and Knives

In the drawer of shadows, utensils await,
A silver-lined arsenal, both love and hate.
Forks poised like soldiers, ready to fight,
While knives glint with secrets, reflecting the light.

The fork, a symbol of comfort, invites with a gleam,
Each bite a reminder of warmth, of dreams.
Yet, with every soft touch, a whisper of dread,
As thoughts twist like noodles, weaving tales in my head.

The knife, sharp and cunning, divides the feast,
A blade that brings chaos, as hunger's unleashed.
It slices through fears, through cravings unkind,
Leaving echoes of battles, of what's left behind.

Dinner tables set with a beautiful spread,
Yet emotions are tangled, each plate filled with dread.
The macaroni smiles, the pie sings of bliss,
But the specter of counting makes joy feel amiss.

A spoon scoops up solace, a taste of delight,
But with each tender morsel, the shadows ignite.
For comfort's a double-edged sword in disguise,
As pleasure turns sour, and hunger denies.

Beneath the soft clatter, the chaos takes hold,
A symphony playing, both timid and bold.
With each clang and each clash, a story unfolds,
Of the love that's entwined with the fear that it holds.

In the banquet of feelings, the flavors collide,
With forks and with knives, I navigate the tide.
Each meal a reminder, a lesson in grace,
Of finding the balance, reclaiming my space.

So I'll wield these utensils, with courage, not fear,
Embracing the comfort, the chaos, the cheer.
For within every bite lies a journey to mend,
A tapestry woven, where chaos can bend.