spindling spider fingers

pry their way into my mouth

and dance like wispy ballerinas

in my raw esophagus

they seduce my stomach contents

and lure them up my throat

colors and tastes and textures and smells

spill out in a rainbow of chunks and acid

my lips are salted slugs fizzling away

would you still kiss me

if you knew about my secret love affair

with the faceless woman Bulimia?

would you still call me beautiful

if you knew about how I prayed

to my merciless porcelain god

every night while you dreamt

of kissing my collarbone?

sometimes you know I am lying

when you ask about my rosebud cheeks and dripping nose

and sometimes

she won't let me look you in the eyes

and it's those sometimes when I am so regretful

that she consumed my life