Food for thought.

Food for boredom.

Food for heartache.

Food for pain.

Food...when my thoughts are a wreck.

When I am alone, food is a therapeutic medicine;

a non-deciever.

I forget about my collapsing walls,

and I indulge.

I tried to catch myself before it was too late.

Yes, I tried to stop myself -

but I could let go.

Do I see it as a mistake?

Not until the next morning,

when I stare at myself in the mirror,

and I worry about my present and future size.

Then, the guilt gets to me.