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Meals left uneaten, bites of chicken or handfuls of rice in the trashcan
Under the darkness of night, they run their hands over their body
Checking how prominent their bones are, their ribcage,
Hip bones, how close their hands are to meeting in the middle of
Their stomach, tight with worry and
Anxiety stemming from thoughts of how they need to do better,
Repeating memories in their head of “You need to eat more.”
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Comments (3)
poignant piece captures the silent struggle and anxiety
The honesty of this. Hit me hard. Take care.
I love the intensity of you poem for such a hard topic to face