When I look back at pictures of myself,

I see a thin girl:

I can say that now.

She used to feel so anxious

she couldn’t eat.

She still had all that energy though,

in an aura around her.

What happens when you get sick?

What happens to the person you could have been?

My friends are all getting famous

they disappear from me

like doves flying through smoke.

I can see the hole where they went for a moment,

but I can’t go where they’re going.

When I look back at pictures of myself

she wears a stranger’s face

She haunts me.

She haunts me.

What happens when you get sick?

What happens when people forget about you?

I am the hand reaching for you in the dark,

pleading: take me with you.

There is blood around my mouth

I am so tired

and already so cold.

***

I. Blinkhorn (she/they) is an emerging poet based in the UK. They write poetry covering topics related to gender identity, chronic illness, surviving abuse, and more generally on the harrowing but beautiful task it is to be alive.