Victus

Everyone around me speaks casually

Of diets and calories

And bad metabolisms

I will sit

And keep my mouth shut

And bite back tears

As images of perfection

Stare me down from every corner

I don’t eat food

I eat numbers that

Widen my waist and stretch out my skin

Leave soft puckered lines

On my inner thighs

I eat numbers that

Make me cringe

When I see myself in a mirror

Or on the reflective glass of restaurant windows

Make me grab at my flesh and hope

No one notices

I eat numbers that

Make me afraid to dance,

Afraid to swim,

Afraid to be called beautiful