There was nothing
beautiful about
painting your heart
red when it was blue
from your lungs
suffocating on all
the words you
wanted to say,
and your skin
was so thin you 
let strangers leave
bruises just to add
some color to your
body again and don’t
tell me you liked it,
your favorite color
is black because
hospital ceilings
were painted white
and you used to stand
in the rain just so you
could try to wash your
limbs when they were
stained with purple
aches.

And now we dance until
our hair soaks the back 
of our necks and please
stop crying, I know you 
miss the days you used 
to carry the sadness in
your own bones and no 
one bothered you, but 
listen to your heartbeat, 
it has begun to love
again.

They stopped
leaving flowers
when they realized
you were no longer  
a walking grave,
and instead you
have become a 
garden in itself.

I’ve watched girls nibble away at half an apple, diced into little chunks to make it last longer. That’s all she’ll eat today. I’ve watched girls drink five litres of water because ‘sometimes you’re not actually hungry, it’s just thirst’. I’ve watched girls drink tea like it’s liquid gold, to pinch their stomachs and feel sick at the sight of the rolls. I’ve watched girls exercise until they faint, until their hearts threaten to beat straight out of their chest because it’s the only way they feel loved.

I’ve watched girls do mental calculations of how much they’ve eaten, 110 calories from a large apple, only 55 from half. I’ve watched girls cry in front of the mirror because they’ll never be size 6, never mind size 4, or 2, or 0. I’ve watched girls hide in bulky clothing when all they’ve ever wanted is to wear dresses that don’t cover everything up. I’ve watched them flinch when people say, “I like girls who have big appetites.” I’ve watched them smile when people say, “you’ve lost weight, haven’t you?”

I’ve watched girls who hate themselves so much they refuse to accept affection. I’ve heard their silence when people comment on how little they are eating - they think: ‘at least now I don’t have a reason to look this way’. I’ve watched girls measure their worth by the gap between their thighs, gripping skin and bone, convinced it’s fat that can be burned. I’ve watched girls, living skeletons, who laugh and smile just like everyone else, who needed someone to lend them a little strength when they couldn’t find their own, for someone to reach out and say: ‘can’t you see you don’t need to do this to be beautiful? You don’t need to do this to be loved.