Skin and Bones

“You are beautiful.” They told me.
I knew they were lying.
I could see fat on my thighs, my arms were too flabby, and my cheeks were balloons.
“You’re perfect the way you are.” He told me, but society didn’t judge personalities.
I’d pigged out yesterday. It doesn’t all leave down the toilet.
Why won’t this hunger go?

They found her in her apartment. Little more than skin and bones.
She’d died of malnutrition.