Her bruised bones
What is it like, to be in love with yourself.
When you take showers, do you catch glimpses of yourself,
And smile, as if under a spell?
What is it like, to be inside a body, and find enough strength to call it home.
I'm standing in the bathroom, my hands to my side.
And I'm staring back at myself, and all i can do is cry.
I wish I knew what it was like to love my body, to cherish it like the gods intended.
I wish I didn't keep a scale in my bedroom, or wipe remnants of my food off my sleeve,
I wish I had a body that I wanted, a pretty girl's body.
Instead I am stuck inside a prison cell that I must call home,
She is withered down to the bone, standing on her last leg.
She is cold on the inside, but warm on the out.
That's how it's always been, even when she feels so dead that she forgets she's alive.
What is it like, to go out to eat, and not count the calories in your dinner roll.
I can no longer shut off the built in calculator engraved in my mind,
You mustn't eat that cereal, It's about 175, instead eat some ice.
I, am standing on my last leg; the windows are closing,
And I'm drawing the curtains.
For one day, what is it like to love yourself,
To feel utterly, and blissfuly okay.