War

I never liked the number three

when I was younger, I always heard
“you need to take three more bites”
even then the food seemed to glare at me
but I’d reluctantly swallow
what tasted like shame and sawdust

now I’m an adult
and just three bites is no longer
considered to be
acceptable eating habits
three times a day is the health requirement
three times a day I battle my own self
three times a day my body pleas for me to give up control
three times a day my mirror humiliates me
three times a day I try to avoid falling into the past
three times a day I try to figure out why I could never judge the body
of another human,
and I swear I love who I am as a person
but I can’t bear the thought of eating
even as my insides claw at themselves
with arms as thin as my self respect
attached to literal shoulder blades
with hands shakier than the foundations of my childhood
and ribs that truly represent a cage

I can hear
people screaming
over the ringing in my ears
eat more
you look thin
are you losing weight again?
you should eat three times a day!

as if this pain could ever be digested
as if guilt could ever be seated silently at the dinner table
as if the need for control is something that could just be chewed up
as if self hate could be simply swallowed with a glass of water
as if there could be a day when my eating disorder disappears permanently
as if it could stop mocking me every time I get healthy
as if three times a day isn’t
a fucking war

Along with her passion for poetry, Kira runs a photography business and travels anywhere she can. Her goal is to soon publish a book in which readers can connect with the raw emotion she sews into her poetry.