issue 5

october 2017

issue 5 - october 2017

Season of an eating disorder - Eefa Yasir Jauhary


Bright rays collide with my flesh
Making their way through my skin
Bones feast on the warmth

Atrocious music, ice cream 
My ears invaded by others’ bliss
My father hands my aching stomach
A cone of a thousand calories

Chocolate oozes against their fingertips
Scarlet, through mine
Their smiles glow

The mirror is my own transgression
My sin is the obsession staring back
A fight to free my insides
But only bones remain within

Mother’s love bleeds through her cherry pies
Her love, her naïveté
Now cold and seeping sweet crimson

Lust I indulge in, necessity turned serpentine
Done with food, craving for an edge
Elephantine thighs
Attack the blade.


My stomach is an alarm clock
Churns, half wakes up the house
Hush now, hush now
We must not let them know

The trees cry
When the wind blows
Death surrounds me

The tears have found a new home
Brushing against the concrete
Weightless as they fall
Just as I wish to be

The branches
Naked, still, empty
My reflection

Stepping on death so carelessly
Chlorophyll weeps as their bones shatter
It used to be a game for us
Crack the bones they would say

Their secrets and juvenile giggles
“This stays between us”
My secret? Only with myself

Friends, they glide into the autumn haze
Poundage shackles me to the ground
I don’t ask them to come back for me
They should have never soared away.


Cracks on the window
Beats of my heart not yet still
Only water running through my blood stream
Still as stout as ever

The cold wraps around my bulk
Goosebumps protrude from my skin
Fighting for an escape

Stomach craves for warmth 
Two spoons of mud in milk
Happiness in a poison cup.


Dahlias arise
Zombies from the grave
Shades of colors stab my eyes
My lips have turned blue.

Mother’s daffodils in a fight 
With the ground, 
Life sprouting

Efflorescence of tulips
Obtrudes from their flowerbeds
Ready for being

The world is trying to show me hues
Of already blossomed blues,
Whites and pinks
My color, the dreaded red.

Gone are the days of bouquets of lilies
Chocolates, and rose-colored glasses
The craving for touch
I only want a blade

Aching in my body
Warning me of my own fragility
Dandelions freed with one blow.

Contributor's Note

Eefa Yasir Jauhary is a lover of all things feminine, and yet is oddly fascinated by darker themes which she explores in her writing. A poet since young and hopefully a published author in the future, Eefa spends most of her time painting, writing or indulging in the latest happenings in pop culture.


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