Cetoria Tomberlin
Hunger
The battlefield is my body,
but it’s also me.
Nothing tastes as good
as being thin
feels.
My body protests, but I resist
giving comfort—
to her sweet tooth,
her thick thighs.
I know the little
cravings are coming.
When they do,
I’ll thrive.
The miles I can go on an empty
stomach always seem greater
in my head. False adrenaline
feels so much like the real thing.
It’s nice for once to be the betrayer;
to see the damage I can cause
even if it’s to myself.
Skin loses elasticity,
pigmentation, hair breaking,
nails folding then tearing.
You don’t look well, Dear.
Are you making a joke?
Irony is so confusing these days.
Nothing tastes as good
as being thin
feels.