And this is the way
you get ready in the morning with
an eating disorder.
Except you don’t
because the mirror is not your friend.
Though it feels like she’s
gained
your trust
because time and time again
she shows up.
So you keep looking to her
for advice
as if everything she shows you is
true
and as if the next time
she’ll be nice
to you,
to you,
“You should change
out of this body if
possible
because it would be
impossible
to leave looking like
that
in the mirror”
Mirror,
mirror,
on the wall,
on every wall in my mind.
And my walls can’t talk
but they sure can
shout
and show me the
ugly
unproportioned
distorted
parts of my body
that clothes
can’t cloak
and so
the only way
I know
to get ready
in the morning
is with
an eating disorder
because
every morning
I look in the mirror
and
forget
she’s not my friend.
