You're tiny. Your wrist
is as thin as a straw
and your body is
like a metal pole–
skinny and cold
and hard. You're
nothing but a crazy
stack of bones
like razors that
poke through skin
so thin and pale
that you're almost
transparent, and I
imagine seeing your
intestines and
stomach and liver
showing right through,
like a window.
I want to ask
you to eat,
to stop your
head from
counting all
the calories
that is in
each bite
but you
say that
you are
all right
and that
I should
stop all the
you just
want to be