sipping a sun baked diet soda, i don't care about the rings it makes on my table/sipping it softly(&& I still haven't forgotten that there is a "secret ingredient" in diet sodas that give you cancer/but i just don't care enough to quit drinking, because maybejustmaybe (secretly)i desire it.)

and the warmness of it on my lips makes me remember; remember warm summer days where i could freely wear pink halter tops and shorts and no one would scan me up and down wondering(why i looksosad/have suchsadeyes)& wondering how i could even hold a smile

and i remember a warm summer day… (me: oblivious to your disease, and you: oblivious to the not-so-conservative red trails down my arms and hips) and i just walked with you when deep inside i shouldn't have been so damn naïve(& maybe i could have done something to help you)

diet soda. you didn't notice you were skinny(as skinny as a rail)

d-i-e-t- you didn't think you needed to eat -because all you saw was imperfection and im just back to the basics again with needlepointcuntscratches on my arms


but at least you're getting better, (& no worries; i'm just a little worse)