she was a whirling merry-go-round
  shooting through outer space like an
  intergalactic firework

he was a grey pond where
  no life could be sustained

she floated when she walked like a
  snowflake in a gentle breeze

he called her tinkerbell

she turned all she touched to love
  setting fire to fear and
  sprouting hope through the
    salt-and-pepper piles of ash

he needed her like a
  flower needs a bee

she brought goldfish to his grey pond
  and lily pads
  and cat tails
  and shades of color
    warm and cold
  planting and painting a plentiful
    landscape

he now had this
  entire ecosystem
  inside of him
    living and breathing
    growing

she stole his heart
  to replace it with a
  habitat for love and art

Here I am
Curled up enveloped in nausea
Shivering from a fever on your couch
Tears in my eyes

There you are
The concern in your eyes
Running your fingers through my hair
Trying to help me relax

It wasn't the perfect moment
But it was wonderful just the same
It was a glimpse into a life with you
And I hope I get to have more
Little imperfect moments with you

Of all the voices in my head,
yours is the only one
I keep hidden
under my bed...
and if you're wondering why
listen sometime to how you sound--
it's as if butterflies are speaking
as they fly
your voice soft as the flutter of their wings
as they go peacefully by
and whenever I get scared at night
I just think of you
and imagine that your voice
will surely get me through
til morning brings me back the light...

Watch your body fall to pieces.
It will not be the first to give up on you,
but it won't be the last, either.

When your nose bleeds,
resist the urge to scream.
It is only because all you've eaten
in the past three days was a grape.
Calcium deficiency.

Your skin will turn yellow
and your nails will be brittle.
It's not beautiful.
You will not look like the plastic
photo lies on the magazine covers.

Your body is consuming itself.
Maybe it sounds like poetry,
but it tastes like fear.
The fear of gaining weight,
the fear of not being perfect.

Your heart will weaken,
your kidneys could fail,

If you die of anorexia nervosa,
it will not be beautiful.
It will not be poetic.
It is grotesque and painful.
The doctors will shove tubes down your throat
just to keep you alive,
while your mind screams,
we can't have those calories

How do you waste away?
It's easy to do.
Hate every piece of yourself
until it's so small you can't feel it.