you are a choked back memory

hidden behind my chest plate

tickling the base of my throat

a crooner belts a song

a dancing melody to remind me of you

serenading a belief of us –

intwined in something more

and that memory flutters inside my ribs

at the base of my gut and






 i once was told 

that people don’t feel their clothes

ya know, during their day to day lives

as a person with anorexia

i feel every fabric-

every pull and give as I move

elastic, well that’s my nemesis 

and I’m conscious of how it looks

and I’m conscious of what people see

and I feel that too.