THINGS BETTER LEFT UNSAID

Are you smitten

with her waning body,

eager to feel sore bone

and burning muscle?

Yearning the luxe of her lithe,

the ease of slipping into a size two,

the gap between her thighs, 

between things better left unsaid

The fabric feels the same on her flesh,

as it does on yours

The air in her lungs

as full of life

The food in her stomach 

as filling, as delectable

But perhaps the taste

isn't what she's craving

Because nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.