A “Starving” Heart

Sometimes I wish I didn’t write, or share my work with my therapist.

How grand it would be,
To pen a tale of great romance —
A lustful verse,
No longer tethered to complaint,
No longer bound by the chains of mental strife.
Cravings for pain dissolved,
Desires for food and joy unchained.

Not tonight —
Tonight, I should uncork the bottle,
Let its contents blur my vision,
Drown in self-pity,
For this need to unravel myself.
Can’t you see?
I don’t want this —
It’s just all I know.

I am losing myself,
And oh, how I wish to be lost.
To starve,
To become nothing but bones.
Maybe then I’d like what I see.
Why can’t I love myself with weight?
Why does it strip away the woman I long to be?
How does starving —
How could starving ever make me right?