I suffocate inside my skin,
I am kind but no longer lovely;
I cannot count my bones at night.
I’ve stretched my clothes thin,
And I look my age again;
They tell me I am finally
Talkative and open and giving.
They say the old me is back.
I stare this new figure in the eyes,
The woman they’ve come to praise,
And I curse her out with every flame
For the way my stomach folds
And my knees dimple
And my cheeks round.
I scream at her for her excess
And chastise her for her curves,
Desperate to take a knife to her softness.
I am violent and unforgiving,
I am not Emi.
I go to her jagged, aiming to forget
The weight I’ve taken in.
I sleep restlessly but I wake up as myself.
I make coffee in the morning,
Send a prayer up to the sky,
And let my writing fill the books
With mantras where I promise
I will stay like this forever.