The Secret Result

Hidden in t-shirts

twice my size,

shoes too tight

to walk in,

and songs that no longer

feel the same.

I hold the secret

result in my pink

book-bag against

breasts that are

tender and sore.

I ask God do you exist

Like magical garden only

the insane can see?

The metaphor

for my insanity is

the love I no longer see.

A secret I taste on

my tongue, I cannot escape.

I hold

my stomach in disgrace

as the thought is

a chocolate spear to

my ivory heart.

I wait for morning

to come like white doves

sitting on my windowsill

for help.

Watching for the sun

to shiner brighter than

the moon.

Waterfalls of yellow

tea with a scent of lemon

and a piece of vibrance

rush beneath me.

I'm afraid for morning

to return to me

in the form of blue

test I cannot escape.

A plus for yes and a circle

for no in the pit of my gut,

burning me from the inside

in.

I throw up my food as

baby birds pick at the

remains of a childhood

that never had chance

to begin.

Nausea in the pit

of my throat like

a cry without a home

to go.

A cage with a broken

heart, scared soul

and tired breasts

feeling heavier

as the rain continues

to fall.

Soreness on a chest,

a feeling in flame

I cannot rinse out...

I'm afraid of the secret

result hidden I don't want

to see but I take it to heart

as I wait for morning

to appear.

My secret result

will reveal itself

to me in a cup of

lemonade.

I tear up as tomorrow

approaches...I pray to God

and ask...Do you exist?