Waxing Moon: The Story of My Eating Disorder Through Poetry

A knock moaned on my door, scratching up and down the wood rhythmically

I swung it open.

And caught


Painting train-track-scars on the surface.
And you, you flared your plump nostrils, plucking the waning moon from the sky and you stuck it to your face

Calling it a smile

And I smiled back.

Like a mirror, you broke me

Worth nothing but pounds and pennies picked by the piece.

And I was sold for the moon, encased in a brown paper bag.

Open me

and my skin peeled away, crinkled like dried apricots in the sun from

the sugar splash of tears that didn’t stop falling

drowning my little bones

I wanted to dry in the dark and join the stars

Rising in perfect light under the crimson burn of the sky.

I felt the breath of the sun on my cheek, but I couldn’t look up. I was,


by the bruising of my eyes.

But, the scars, turned into trenches, trailing down from the throbbing of my shoulder blades.

You, had crawled into my blood, blemishing my veins to a beautiful blue.

My scabby heart crumbled, in

Soil staining the sinning side of me.

And I became a mechanical heartbeat

Tired of living but unable to stop.

I wanted to fight you? I wanted to hurt you, feel you, love you over and unde

Like the moon.

I wanted to kill you and lust you, becoming biology and chemistry yet pulled apart by the throbbing of my shoulder blades.

Wanted so badly, but I couldn’t.

I needed you and you devoured me.

Taking over cruise control.

You suckled on the marrow of my little bones and stroked my hair

Plucking each strand like a plastic mini harp in tune to a cherub’s cry

Red raw and

naked from your touch. Cold

Bites swelling and puffed like a pie from your nips and pinches

My skin was a wasteland, and you laughed

brushing your fingertips across the open wounds

Your smile waxing.

I couldn’t fight you

You peppered kisses on the craters of face

Buttering the cracks of my lips

Evening out my creases, massaging out my folds.

You were death, robed in white, preaching for peacetime.
And I was afraid, calling out with a hole in my throat
I’d given away my voice for free.

How could I fight you

Your love, it,

Laced my soul and suffocated me slowly

And petrified me because I knew the air would hurt to breathe.

If I let you go.

Tags from the story
, , ,
Written By
More from Julia Helman

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *