There's No Turning Back...

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
story of a bulimic..

Submitted: October 25, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 25, 2012




I stare at my plate

Then I look at the clock

Counting down the seconds

Until it settles.

Up I jump

Eager as ever

Running to the little room

With the toilet inside.

Shaking hands find

The little button

At the back

Of my throat.

Into the porcelain pot

Goes my dinner

My hopes

And my health.

Down the drain

Is my meatloaf

My joy

And my life.

Sticky saliva forms a

Web on my fingers

Resembling the web of lies

I have made to cover this up.

Wipe away the tears

The snot

The bile

And do it again.

Over and over and over

Until the last piece is out

And I’m left numb

On the tiled floor.

Hair matted

Eyes bloodshot

Nose running

Throat burning.

Stumbling through the halls

Trying to make sense of it all

I just wanted to look perfect

Was that too much to ask?

There's no turning back...

© Copyright 2020 Phoebe Kishbaugh. All rights reserved.

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