dear oliver,
please help me.
please. i can’t
take it anymore.
it’s too much.
remember when,
the tears streamed
down my face. my
fat face. i knocked
my hands against
the concrete bathroom
floor as my sobs escaped
my battered lips.
dammit, dammit, dammit.
my hands clenched against
the edge of the sink.
why do i have to be so
hideous, so ugly that
no one is willing to
look at me in the eyes?
am i that unbearable?
remember when,
i looked at the toilet and
took a deep breath in.
holding the sides slowly,
i raised my finger and let
it go down my throat.
i need to do this. i need
to lose the weight.
i have to be pretty.
but you don’t remember.
no one but me does.
quinn
YOU ARE READING
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PoetryQuinn scribbles tainted emotions across thin layers of white paper. But to who? To someone who blinks once, sees her, and blinks again-just to make her disappear. To someone who sees her as a symbol of the ocean. To someone who thinks the ocean is...
