I Pray for the Day

I pray for the day

when goosebumps and blue lips

don’t remind me of winning

anymore

and innocent bruises

don’t remind me of trophies

I collected from crumbling blood cells

and stomach cramps

don’t taste like cinnamon

and hunger pangs, my drug of choice,

does not tease me in the mornings.

Once she lurked

in the dizzy spells

when I stood

I kept them in a little jar

in buckling knees

I kissed them good morning

and hair spilling like glitter

on bathroom tiles

I still have them in my pockets

And I pray

that every moment makes me forget

the high of being so low

of my flings with the Angel of death

my first kiss

Because as hard as I try

to put myself together

I see health as failure

and a steady gait as defeat

and multivitamins still smell like a ruse.

I don’t want to be sick anymore

But i miss being a puppet

held by sturdy strings

and I miss eating my worries

for dessert

But I pray for the day

that goosebumps aren’t trophies anymore.