Wounded Spine

my friends like their bones

their edges and the holes

that's why they run in the morning,

and look at each other's pretty little skins

they hold their abdomen and giggle while moving their salad with a fork,

but never actually eating it

my friends like the cold,

a spine that's wounded, I'm told

from doing crunches at eleven,

having dinner at 12, and running between the night and the day

my friends are not hurt in bone

my friends like to eat alone

they are perfect, and sharp.

a beautiful waist must be shown in post.

when people see it, they are not happy, but they like it anyway.

when she posts it, she is not carefree, but she must post it.

we give our humble approval of a concave waist with loving force.

none of us are happy, but it is our duty to like it.

and like we do.

neither is she, but she has an image to uphold.

and post she does.