Eating Disorder Poetry
Identity
I'm lost, frantic
I run up and down the same streets
But my efforts are futile
I see an old man
His wrinkled, weathered hands gripping his chest
No, Death, I'm not looking for you
Yet
I keep going
I see two lovers, fingers intertwined and hearts congealed
No, Love, you are not mine to have
Ever
I stumble, I tire, I'm human
At last
In a dark recessed room I see her
Where have you been? she asks
I've missed you
Her bony fingers grasp mine as I help her to her feet
Her sallow face and hallow cheeks look so familiar
Yet so forgotten
The pale rags hang off her mere skeleton
And her dull eyes seem to say
I thought you'd forgotten me
Your burden, your disease, you are me
I can't get rid of you,
But I don't want to
I need you,
I depend on you
You make me
You are me
Death, are you coming?
Katey
