I hate this body.

I hate this body that betrays me when emotions run rampant
and my veins constrict around blood that flows too fast.
When my chest stiffens to hinder the movement
of the lungs that there dwell, causing me to jolt
when breath finally forces its way in.

I hate this body that will only stop shaking when I stop breathing,
every intake of air shuddering dry through my clenched teeth.
I try so hard to appear collected but this body betrays me,
separating itself from the rational parts of my lonely mind
that just keep repeating
"Stop. Stop. Stop."

I hate this body that proves weak when faced with anxiety.
Irrationality lives in my heart like a ghost,
pumping its way through my arteries to all the vital organs
with a force that no power of mind or will could hinder.

I hate this body because it reminds me of my fear, of you.
Because I never felt this way before you snapped
and threw me to the ground.
And now I try and try but trust refuses to sink in
and I feel the sorrow of it in my bones because
I LOVE YOU.

I hate this body because whenever I want to open up
my muscles constrict around frail joints,
shutting my heart away behind a thin wall of meaty,
impenetrable flesh.
This body reminds me every day that I still struggle to forgive you,
even though I want to.
I would rip away this skin and let you back in,
but you never said "Sorry",
and this body won't let me.

I hate this body.