“You can’t have sex wearing a wig” she said

That line could’ve made me laugh

If she wasn’t clutching the sides of her head

Wondering what choice did she have.


“I’m twenty one years old, and losing my hair”

There were tears all down her face

“If it does come back, I won’t even care

What I’ve lost can’t be replaced.”


I wondered then,

Seeing my old friend,

If she meant the hair or the weight?

And how much time did she spend

Wasting away in her own hate?


The way she looked in that moment

Allowed me to see what she must

That she no longer enjoyed it

That seeing her face caused disgust.


She was still gorgeous to me, and I told her so.

I wasn’t thinking when I mentioned her hair

I didn’t mean to upset her or make her go

“I’m stupid, I’m sorry” I cried in despair.


See it had been five months since I saw her last,

Two weeks or so after her birthday,

Months in the hospital had past

And I missed my Anna dearly.


That last visit she had been so thin

Her frame was a shell of what her body used to be

She blamed it then on her medicine

Did she really once have the same measurements as me?


Were we really the same cup size?

Our hips the same width?

Trading clothes and sharing fries

Is this the same friend?


Now she was in my room standing in front of my mirror

I accidently pointed out that her hair had grown thinner

I wasn’t thinking, it was just what I saw

I had hit a nerve that had long been rubbed raw.


She was in hysterics staring at herself

It seemed she talked to the reflection, not me

I’m being torn apart because I can’t help

The girl I admired, and wanted to be.


Though it brings her joy to see my face

No more can I see hers

‘Cause since they let her out of that place

She’s only gotten worse.


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