Skeletons
xxx.
I can shop for you in the children’s isle.
I can feel your bones.
I can trace the line of your collar, of each and every rib.
I can hear your stomach rumble.
I can see the skin barely hanging off your frame.
I can tell how hard it is for you to breathe when climbing stairs or lifting bags of groceries.
I can wrap my fingers around your waist.
I can throw you across the room, if I want to.
I can envision you breaking right in half, with bones so brittle.
I can see you itching, watching, waiting until everyone forgets about you and you can slink off to the bathroom.
I can hear you gagging, coughing, sputtering until nothing, not anything, comes up anymore.
I can feel how easily you’ll break, fall apart, tear at the seams.
I can’t do this anymore.
I can feel your bones.
I can trace the line of your collar, of each and every rib.
I can hear your stomach rumble.
I can see the skin barely hanging off your frame.
I can tell how hard it is for you to breathe when climbing stairs or lifting bags of groceries.
I can wrap my fingers around your waist.
I can throw you across the room, if I want to.
I can envision you breaking right in half, with bones so brittle.
I can see you itching, watching, waiting until everyone forgets about you and you can slink off to the bathroom.
I can hear you gagging, coughing, sputtering until nothing, not anything, comes up anymore.
I can feel how easily you’ll break, fall apart, tear at the seams.
I can’t do this anymore.