by Eleanor Smith

cw// eating disorder, self-harm

two summers ago now
my skin grew fuzzy round the edges
i lost the language of my beating heart

so i took a scalpel to myself

i think i thought that if exposed to the air
they’d fossilize into numbers, every feeling i ever had
so i could count them up

but when i opened my skin it all dissolved

i walked around liquid, beginning to evaporate
begging for my skin back again my warm skin
my sun skin

the greek chorus followed me around crying

PICK ONE
YOU HAVE TO BE WRONG ABOUT YOURSELF
IN ONE OF AT LEAST TWO WAYS SO PICK ONE

DON’T YOU KNOW THIS IS A TRAGEDY

(eventually i poured myself into the sea)