Poetry & Art

when you see this, you see guilt.

you see a number. a number on a box, a number on a wrapper, a number on a measuring tape, a number on the scale.

you see failure. you see weeks of starving going down the drain.

you see weakness.

you do not see this for what it is.

you do not see it as a necessity.

you don’t see this apple, this sandwich, this meal, as what it is.

this apple, this sandwich, this meal-

life support.

your tears are like raindrops

your eyelids are like dams

when theres too much pressure

you collapse, BAM!

when you blink them away

that creates a stream

a flowing river, down your face

and then, they beam

they fall down silently

you too, make no sound

not a sniffle or even a cough

you dont want to be found

your voice is barely a whisper

youre all out of breath

so you switch to thinking

“its time for my death”

He loved my husband

I acted like I loved everything he did

But really I wanted the attention

I protected his every decision as a child

I was there for him when no one else was

But why did he love my husband

My husband houdinied him

He was the drug addict

He was the alcoholic

He was the cheater

He never returned my phone call

Now I’m the alcoholic

Now I’m the cheater

And I won’t return his phone call