We're Ok

Three friends with eating disorders  go out together
No one asks if they want lunch
But all gladly agree to coffee

Lying on your couch
Air conditioner out
You run fingers down scarred theighs placing pressure in the divits
Feeling the textures and changes on my skin
You read me like lines of Braille

I held your hair back while you vomited
Through the bile I still smell coconut shampoo

We're all 17 trying to find adults to buy us ciggerettes

This poem has no rhyme or reason really

Im just glad through all the disgusting horrors of our lives
We find each other to make us feel ok