Body Image, Poetry

There Is A Monster In My Closet

girl looking down in dark shadowed room

and I can hear his voice in my head as I sift through my dresses
too tall, too big, too skinny, too much.
His presence follows me; I can feel his icy fingers trace
my elbows, my hands as I reach for the fabric of my favorite shirt,
you always wear this; nothing else looks good.
I hear him whisper, feel his arms hug my middle
as I slip into a tight pair of jeans
do you see that stomach?
I wiggle out and put on a sweatshirt to hide
from the both of us.
His voice carries all the way to the bathroom
as I step on the scale
lose, lose, lose.
I run and sweat cry and hide.
Hat brim low, shading my eyes.
not enough, not enough, not enough.
He shakes his head
and retreats to the home I’ve created for him.

There’s a monster in my closet
and I’ve invited him to say.

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Featured Image Credit: Mr Wong

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