~A poem about the time I let go of anorexia~
She left a few days ago I’m almost certain.
I waited at the door to my castle.
I waited a long time to make sure she didn’t turn back and slip through the cracks in my door,
Maybe I held the door open for her, my head was pinned down, eyes shut,
And I did not slam the door (but I should have),
That night I wrote a poem about letting go : the first poem I had written in three months,
I could never write when she was here, I was always so afraid of her slipping my hand or tearing the page out from beneath my hands.
You see, this girl, she looked just like me,
We were so identical that people often got us mixed up,
Confusion caused when people spoke to her rather than me,
You were talking to her. Her. Rather than me.
When she was gone, I felt like my home was the size of an ocean,
Waves crashing against my cold skin, dissolving me,
The place was too big for one.
It hurts, touching the things you broke,
Glass and feelings and glass in my fingertips,
But I know that I must rebuild.
Sometimes I catch sight of her in my mirrors and windows on a dark night,
Or I hear her in birdsong, or door slams, or car alarms,
I feel the burn.
I do not want to burn for her.