A fat, unrequited love is searching desperately for answers, and the body responds with a spasm of disgust and points inward to the place resistance lays, chewed to a nub. Love finds a police state, with them circling like vultures around a mouth, poking around a hollow waistline. All have fled, but one, only one stubborn citizen remains, and she lays half-starved in the body’s hands, no whines left on her tongue between teeth chattering a depression. Love’s flabby, soft arms cradle her, weeping for her flesh, flayed with self-hate, because she can’t accept love as much as she wants it.
Farah Ghafoor is a fifteen-year-old poet and a founding editor at Sugar Rascals, an online teen literary magazine. She believes that she deserves a cat and/or outrageously expensive perfumes, and can’t bring herself to spend pretty coins. Her work is published in places like alien mouth, Really System and Synaesthesia, and has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. Find her online at fghafoor.tumblr.com.