Gross.
Thats what I am.
My body covers the mirror
As it reflected off the metal.
My nose was too big,
The fabric on my skin stretching to its limit.
My eyes were wonky,
They never aligned properly
And were a disgusting shade of brown.
Almost like a void.
How could anybody like me?
I'm not slim,
I'm not curvy.
I'm definitely not
_Beautiful_.
But that's what he called me.
Gorgeous.
Stunning.
_Thin_.
But he must be lying, with that
sickly-sweet smile of his.
Smiles like that
Do no good.
Yet
He sends me drawings every day.
Of the same girl,
Stick-thin,
Almost a skeleton herself
But with the face of a goddess.
She must be someone he liked,
Trying to show me what he wants.
Why does he do this?
Why send me drawings of a girl
I can only envy?
Until
After class,
He walks up to me,
Pink across his cheeks,
Red as a rose
"Hey-"
He seems nervous, looking down and fiddling with his fingers
"I want to tell you something...
I...
I like you."
_"I like you."_
The statement feels foreign
As it tumbles about in my head
How?
"I'm overweight. No, obese.
Why would you like me?"
"What?" He stutters,
"You're not fat.
You're- you're almost like a skeleton!"
Wait, what?
No, he was wrong.
How could I be so skinny
That he could say I'm similar to a skeleton?
I turn to gaze at the mirrors hung on the walls
And for once,
I saw
The figure I had blinded myself from.
I wasn't fat
In fact, I was far from even being fleshy
That figure I constantly saw myself in
Was just a lie
That I told myself
I was never fat,
It was just a figment
Of my imagination.
YOU ARE READING
Poems I made
PoetryThe poems I make up both in the bathroom and during school/study time (oh god the first few are the worst)[This is mostly for me to keep track of my poetry progress and how many poems I've made]
