Under a blanket; a baggy sweatshirt
An apple whittled to the core, devoured
And I stand in front of the mirror
Holding the core in my fist, juice making my fingers sticky
Holding my breath to make it look like
I am also whittled to the core
Shred by shred of cream-coloured me
Falling in pieces around my feet
A prefect, beautiful, new shape forming
But it's not that easy I think as I stare at
The girl staring back at me,
Disgusted
