Wintergirl

Wordstalkspeak

I can’t speak/talk/saywhatIwant/howIfeel

Theywon’tleavemeALONE.

The numbers are even worse.

Numbers onthescale/onthefoodpackages/inmymind/brain/soul

Won’tleavemeALONE.

I love don’t need my family/friends/life.

I am weak/strong/Idon’tevenknowanymore.

I am a straight A student failure.

I am crazy mentally ill.

I am the number on the scale,

The number on the calorie counter,

Number of ribs poking through parchment paper skin

The numbernumbernumber.

I am the words used to write this poem,

The words that die on my tongue,

The thoughts that never leave my starving brain,

The wordswordswords.

I have a tiny little tummy inside me,

Wrapped up like a morbid Christmas gift,

With veins/blood/organs/muscles/skin.

It is angry with me when i eat what the doctor says to-

At least 1200 calories a day

(800 calories isn't even enough to keep a person in a coma alive, HannahBeth.)

It twists into knots and makes me feel sick.

It's angry with me when I don't eat,

Whispering sweet and contradictory nothings in my pale little ears

(I'm hungry, feed me. You don't deserve food, you fat little pig.)

It growls and makes me dizzy, tiny stars making me blink if I stand up too fast.

I am a tiny little girl, in all reality.

I am tiny and small where I used to have slight curves.

I am pale/fragile/delicate/about to crack.

That's all I am-

Tiny/small/little.

I am forever stuck in winter.

I get so cold the goosebumbs feel like sandpaper and I hurt all over.

I am forever trapped behind a wall of ice,

Like the White Witch's castle, where I sit perched on an ice throne,

Queen of a world no one wants to be in.

I can't breakthatwallnomatterwhatIdo/howloudIscream/cry/beg.