I sat there and watched,

watched how hard she tried to feel comfortable in her own skin,

watched how her bones enhanced due to all the meals she skipped,

her hair softly sitting on her shoulder

as if the stars planned for her to be so lovely.

As she stood there in a hollow corner of the room,

trying to force a smile while taking pulls 

of her drunkenly made cigarette.

I admired her beauty ,

the same beauty i admired a year ago, everything she hated.

It made me wonder , after all the weighing scale numbers she had lost ,

leading towards the recovery from this stomach churning sickness she had ,

what caused her to hate her reflection?

She was beauty , she was grace , she was art ,

And she is the reason i still held hope