He recalls that face, that tan skin
and the freckles across her nose that she hated
along with so many other imperfections
That he couldn’t see on her frightfully lovely body
The brittle nails that snapped, the stomach
That always growled, the shoulders slumped
downward, frail. She had always been frail,
his winter born friend, his ice girl.
Where did she go? In the volumes of fabric that
She carefully curved and layered over
The bones in her wrists, the points of her hips
and the breaks between rib bone and rib bone
He searches for the little ice girl, his little ice girl
Frantic amongst all the uneaten food and the sterilized sheets
Is she there? Where is she? Panic rises only to quell when
He sees her, a speck among tubes and blipping machines
There she is, but he isn’t sure if she’s really there
Her cheeks are hallow and the laugh, like winter wind
Is nothing more than a puff of smoke.
Where did she go?
He’ll get his little ice girl back, strong like
Diamonds, he’ll give her his strength to clothe her
His love to feed her and all that he has to watch her
Come back, come back to him.
(Just a quick little update. I know a lot of my poems are happy and good and just kind of girly. But I write that way because writing the dark stuff tends to leave me spinning and a little scared. It’s scary. I’m sorry not all my poems are deep, but I do my best to write what I can. I thought this was ok, I think… Also, I don’t have any sort of eating disorder. At one point when i was younger, I refused toe at for fear of throwing up. It was a very bad time for me and that’s kind of where I draw this from.)