Eating with blinds on
so not able to see fat.
I get on the scales
Shiver
Then fall into pit of food.
Food - the glue I use
to patch the cracks,
absorb the pain,
Put out the hurt from old wounds.
So - my adult self
comes and cradles
my child self.
Cut into pieces
over and over.
Humming a lullaby,
I want to soothe,
and heal,
and make whole.
I am the one whose there
to hold my hurt self so tenderly.
I am the one who can comfort
over and over.