Trigger warning: this poem may be triggering to people who have experienced eating disorders.

It’s almost better.    

the food I was bound to taste twice.   

The colors’ almost brighter the second time.   

Vomits falling out of my mouth

while I’m trying to speak.   

Why can’t you hear me?    

I’m screaming.   

The acidity is burning at my tongue    

but it seeps to my soul and it holds me.     

Please- hold me.     

Can your fingers still not wrap themselves     

around my wrists?    

When you tell me to wake up

And look in the mirror     

I still see nothing.     

Or everything.    

I can’t really tell which.  

I’m not sure who truly exists.     

I’m sorry I’m not holding your hand

they’re filled with pills and pins     

I know I hurt you     

When I hurt myself

But you can hold your voodoo doll.   

When she’s thin.    

My name is Sierra; pronouns she/her/hers. Instagram: @sierrachrist.  I hope this poem makes someone feel less alone.