Delicacies
He could dip his fingers into the shadows
of her collarbone;
and whisper to her brittle bones
of secrets they’d always shared with
someone else.
He liked how her cheeks were hollows,
her waist such a curve from her hips,
and how he could dig his hands
under her ribs
and she would not cry.
In the dusk-light, she’d reside by
the window, her heart skipping in
irregular patterns;
until he slipped beside her
and lifted her hand to place in his,
because she could not lift it
for him.
She hated how her stomach sunk
into herself, how her hips bones were
like jagged knife edges, how
bruises littered her skin because she
did not have enough fat to
protect herself.
She detested her heavy limbs that
refused to allow herself to
walk, move, live.
And she missed his smile when
she could not push the rotten
ugly stuff past her too-thin lips.
Until recovery came, she told
herself, and she knew it would.
When he left, recovery would come.
of her collarbone;
and whisper to her brittle bones
of secrets they’d always shared with
someone else.
He liked how her cheeks were hollows,
her waist such a curve from her hips,
and how he could dig his hands
under her ribs
and she would not cry.
In the dusk-light, she’d reside by
the window, her heart skipping in
irregular patterns;
until he slipped beside her
and lifted her hand to place in his,
because she could not lift it
for him.
She hated how her stomach sunk
into herself, how her hips bones were
like jagged knife edges, how
bruises littered her skin because she
did not have enough fat to
protect herself.
She detested her heavy limbs that
refused to allow herself to
walk, move, live.
And she missed his smile when
she could not push the rotten
ugly stuff past her too-thin lips.
Until recovery came, she told
herself, and she knew it would.
When he left, recovery would come.