she’s been exercising, again;
putting her self-worth on a diet
she’s 5 feet tall; 105 pounds
(excess in mirror)

feeding off boneless,
skinless,
tasteless
chicken

(so she doesn’t have to 
remember
as the flush removes it)

I can’t blame her;
I know what it feels like
(so alone that your voice no longer comforts)

she’s getting rid of baggage
because her husband is gone

I want to label her
so she’ll get counseling too

she was always the pretty one;
I was the smartest,
and my other sister was mini-mom

Never had to live in their shadows;
I was too busy being haunted by my own
(my shadow plays alone now
in a permanent corner)

somehow I became the strongest of us three;

I want to give her all of it,
so she will finally be able to
believe.

06/08/2005
Author's Note: For Mickey.

Posted on 06/08/2005
Copyright © 2025 Ava Blu

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Paul Marino on 06/08/05 at 10:22 PM
good, your words are getting better, and since poetry is made of words, so is your poetry. keep up the relaxed, honest tone, because i think it's working for you.