Poetry Forum

I crave for my figure to be emaciated. A shrunken shriveled withered physique. Is what I aspire. When my ribs protrude I feel euphoric. But am I really? Aching for the feeling of hunger. I am in control. The scale reading regulates everything. Skin and bones. All the baby fat gone. Only heavy under ...

Holds me, holds me close like a Mother should. I really like this line

Im not really sure what the mixture is symbolizing though.

I understand your topic but I think it lacks the structure of a poem.