44 Kilograms

my veins are empty of the life I might be having
my womb is empty of the life that might of been
my bones are fucking hollow
and my hand fits through solid f cking objects
you are the master and i’m just a little girl
you blended straight into me and I can’t fix that
how do you take back the part that you didn’t actually own
how do you make yourself care when your bones are hollow now
i can’t touch myself
I can drink all the drinks and take all the drugs
I can starve myself until people ask questions
But they don''t know it’s not my physical size they gaze upon
Another woman will have what I was too weak to hold and now
my ideas are small
my goals are small
my love is small
my presence is small
and my physical size is still small
and they are still asking questions

My feedback to other poetry on this sub is here: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/42wztt/a_journey_from_syria_in_the_1970s/czfz7xr And here: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/42vbct/trip_reposting_needed_to_fix_formatting/czfzwkn