The Shirt

I cannot wear the red blouse.

Lines that defined my curves taunted my eyes

Blurry tears dripping as I ran faster into dusk

To fit into a teenage concept of “sex appeal”

Obsessive beauty enticed me with the promise of love

Broke my brain while tearing my heart:

Darling, desire.

My ribs heaved in anxiety, collapsed from confusion (utter depletion)

I wanted love outside of a chocolate bar (mother where were you)

Meals turned into rewards twice a week at best

Hell-bent to model size 0 as a lifestyle, my guru chanted “thin” as equating to “adoration”;

My mantra corresponded to lies in the trashcan…

Comparison is a dangerous pastime for

A romantic kid forging life like a bounced check.

Confidence fleeted in the dawn, I put my mask up and on

Every good day, the red blouse contained a secret

One that scared me, the one that eats you alive as you keep it

My mouth shudders at the ‘condition’

But, I know it very well.

(I wrote this for my poetry class at UNC-CH)