Wasted (by Rylan Hunter)
What is it you see as you hurry past? The outline of my ribs from meals pieced together out of your scraps? I wonder if you see the shadows beneath my eyes marking the absence of sleep that lasts longer than the time it takes for my dreams to spiral into nightmares that leave me retching on my knees. Or … do you see the smooth skin that makes your hands move restlessly at your sides as you shuffle closer. Do you lie to yourself and pretend to see lust for you in my eyes? I wish I knew what it is you see, because I know … you don’t see me.
Photograph by Terry Smith
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]Wasted (by Rylan Hunter),