The truth is simple.
There are seven days in a week,
60 minutes in an hour,
50 states in america,
And no thank you, i’m not hungry.

The truth is graceful.
A group of friends laughing together,
The harmless flirtation,
And no thank you, I already ate

The truth is kind.
That top is cute,
And I’d love to do the whole project
And have you lost weight?
I don’t think so.

The truth is big.
It is the sign that says polytechnic,
The envelope that holds the congratulations,
And the napkins that hold uneaten food.

Honesty is grotesque.
It is the act of razors breaking skin,
And fingers being shoved down throats.

Honesty is messy.
It is tripping on words
and questioning assumptions.
It is asking what’s wrong
When you haven’t even acknowledged
The food on your plate .

The truth is what we see
Instead of scars
And food in napkins
And the deafening whispers that make her a sl*t.

The truth is subjective.
I’m not hungry
Because I already ate
And no I haven’t lost weight,
And i’m throwing this food away because a number is more important
Than my well being.