writing
Been trying to write something every night. A lot of it is illness focused. To post them here too, starting with the backlog.
Nov. 23, 2012
My body is only a body,
beautiful and hideous in turn.
The pieces turned against me long ago,
nerves shorting out,
swelling limbs and purple toes.
We changed and grew together,
but I hated it, hated her,
the girl in the pictures
who was so much wider, older, sadder,
than the girl in the mirror.
Nov. 24, 2012
When the day affords so much time
the odd quiet moment loses all meaning.
Worse, it becomes the enemy.
Each moment to reflect is another moment to
count the reasons to be depressed.
So the poetry fades, or
worse, it becomes a litany of
complaints and sadness.
Nov. 25, 2012
What kind of girl puts a mirror
right across from her bed?
It would be nicer just to be vain,
rather than so lonely that the
sight of any face is a comfort.
Grinning at myself was easy until
it became a necessity.
Now the smile fades from the eyes
and then the mouth goes
and I look like what I am, what I feel.
Nov. 27, 2012
The girl in the mirror and I
have been friends for so long.
She smiles, grins, makes me laugh
and always seems just that bit happier.
But I know she’s trapped in
100 tiny moments, alone in the dark.
And where I have that bright, shining, mirror friend,
she only has the palest shadow companion.
Nov. 28, 2012
This is how you keep your body whole
when you just want to pick at every imperfection.
Choose your obsessions well
and instead spend hours on the perfect cup of tea.
Nov. 23, 2012
My body is only a body,
beautiful and hideous in turn.
The pieces turned against me long ago,
nerves shorting out,
swelling limbs and purple toes.
We changed and grew together,
but I hated it, hated her,
the girl in the pictures
who was so much wider, older, sadder,
than the girl in the mirror.
Nov. 24, 2012
When the day affords so much time
the odd quiet moment loses all meaning.
Worse, it becomes the enemy.
Each moment to reflect is another moment to
count the reasons to be depressed.
So the poetry fades, or
worse, it becomes a litany of
complaints and sadness.
Nov. 25, 2012
What kind of girl puts a mirror
right across from her bed?
It would be nicer just to be vain,
rather than so lonely that the
sight of any face is a comfort.
Grinning at myself was easy until
it became a necessity.
Now the smile fades from the eyes
and then the mouth goes
and I look like what I am, what I feel.
Nov. 27, 2012
The girl in the mirror and I
have been friends for so long.
She smiles, grins, makes me laugh
and always seems just that bit happier.
But I know she’s trapped in
100 tiny moments, alone in the dark.
And where I have that bright, shining, mirror friend,
she only has the palest shadow companion.
Nov. 28, 2012
This is how you keep your body whole
when you just want to pick at every imperfection.
Choose your obsessions well
and instead spend hours on the perfect cup of tea.