If I'd ever been anything more

Than the two-thirds thing I am

Then I'd have traced the spooled spaghetti

Abandonned on ceramic

Back to its source

And I would have questioned the little habits

That you twitched yourself into

Ingraining into your hard-drive

The cat-and-mouse

Kiss-chase game

Of living off rewards

That never kissed you back

And I would have held you back

By the bowed veins that had no choice

But to river across your skin

Because when you drowned in yourself

And your body

We drowned too

And if I'd ever been anything more

Than the two-thirds thing I am

I would not have explained you as

      "It's like anorexia, but for happiness"

I would instead have told that

Half-smiling

 Quarter-questioning

  Eighth-caring

   Sixteenth-understanding

Girl on the bus

That the way you'd dipped yourself

In Potassium Chlorate

And were waiting for someone to set you on fire

Was, quite simply,

     "Anorexia"