Dear Esther,
This morning,
I felt horribly sick as usual,
And I wasn't hungry.
I've never felt hungry since seventh grade.
Before anyone could force me to eat,
I had decided to get some fresh air,
And sneaked out of my room,
Sprinting towards the deep ocean
I am now,
Writing another letter to you,
Sitting on the rocks,
Watching the calm waves gently stroke the shore
Rays of sunlight,
Pour down in might,
As the sun hangs majestically in the cerulean sky
The clouds;
Pure clumps of cotton candy;
Clusters of wool,
Slowly glide by
The scent of fresh sea salt,
Wafts into my nostrils,
As the placid waters seem to call out my name
The wind howls,
Along in harmony,
Caressing my tear-streaked face,
Wiping the droplets away
Everything is so beautiful,
The thing is...
I'm not.
Am I?
Quinn
YOU ARE READING
shards of the heart
Poetry❝the scars that screamed of revolutions inside her head and the shards that made up her heart were things that no one saw.❞ suffering from a terrifying eating disorder and from a shattered home, quinn's greatest tormentor is imperfection. her world...
