Photo by Christopher Windus on Unsplash
I take myself and all my used parts
and drop them off at the junkyard.
armfuls of things I hate about myself;
chunks and rolls of scars and self-loathing.
they fall from my arms with
a deafening crash, but I don’t cry or scream.
I breathe a sigh of relief, even though I feel so weak.
I feel so much lighter after shedding the weight.
I don’t expect to miss it.
I scour the junkyard for pieces
I wouldn’t be ashamed to get caught with.
a tiny waist here, a little confidence there.
I inspect these other abandoned masterpieces
and toss them aside.
there’s nothing here worth finding.
A poem from my newest collection, The Art of Starving, available now on Amazon.
Check it out here.
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