I like counting.
At first it was simply just numbers,
But as I grew older,
The topics I was counting became colder.
Carefully calculating how many calories I could consume,
Insisting I wasn’t hungry while my stomach yearned for food.
I’d rather starve.
I can’t eat.
Save me.
I like running.
I like the open air, the false sense of freedom,
He doesn’t let me out of the house much.
Trapped in an ornate cage,
I’m his play bunny, his cellmate.
And so I stay.
I can’t leave.
Save me.
I liked parties.
Getting drunk with my friends,
Praying those nights would never end,
And I’d walk home holding his hand.
Now, it’s only him who can leave,
Deserting me in the process,
Only coming back when he wants my body.
I miss the taste of liquor.
I can’t do it anymore.
Save me.