How pretty it would be
To look like porcelain.
Pale and smooth,
Skinny again.
How beautiful would I
Look with hip bones and ribs.
How beautiful
With cracking lips.
How gorgeous would vomit
Look, dripping down my chin
My nose bleeding
Praying for thin.
How attractive would it
Be if I giggled
And said no
To that cupcake.
And when I get home, say
No to a meal, snacks, all
The food staring
At my fat body.
How pretty would I be
If I listened to the
Proana posts,
And believed them.
How pretty would I be
If I was skinny like
You think I am
Because I don't eat.
I'm not skinny. Not yet.
It's the beginning of
A long story.
I'm not okay
But just because I still
Have fat where my ribs are
Does not mean that
I'm. Not. Dying.
.
.
.
How pretty would it be
To look like porcelain.
Dying inside,
Starving again.
01/10/2016
C.J.
