You look healthy.
And by that I don’t mean you look fat.
I mean your face isn’t grey any more, the circles under your eyes aren’t so dark. Your lips aren’t cracked and dry and your hair isn’t thinning and brittle. I mean you seem more focused when I talk to you, You actually look at me and listen rather than being so unable to stay still or think about anything other than your illness that your eyes dart around the room and you nod manically the whole time I’m speaking. You seem calmer, stiller, quieter. You’re easier to have a joke with and you take things on board much more than you used to.
I mean you laugh now, you’re less serious. There’s life about you, it’s in your eyes and your smile, it’s in the way you speak and even in the way you go about your daily tasks.
You look healthy. You look happy. It really, really suits you.
To the boy who called her fat:
You are dumb enough to regurgitate
the lies your society has taught you.
When you have a daughter,
will you too teach her
she is worth the amount
that her breasts to her waist to her hips
Perhaps it is a waste us women
are even educated,
it takes away from our time
at the gym or in the toilet.
To the adult that called her stupid:
She is a product of your hell.
Her brain is sliced open
and ripped to shreds
when she is taught to memorize and speak
rather than learn.
How can she absorb
when men like you insist
she is nothing bigger than her body,
rather than her brain?
To the man who called her a slut:
Have you so quickly forgotten
that you were an active participant?
Whispering in her ear
she is a whore if she does
and a prude if she doesn’t.
Who knows which is worse?
Remember, if she is so soiled
after you have finished,
perhaps you should look at your own hands
rather than her skin.