War when you’re too sober for it

Amna Muhammad Hussain, Pakistan

The boy downstairs can say war with his whole chest now
And he tells me he doesn't have to wash his mouth with soap later
And he tells me what war tastes like
Like empty cutlery, hollow metal, steel, plastic
Like carnivorous plants right before you swallow them
Like the food you had to sell half your couch for
Like the dentist's mouth mirror your numb tongue is itching to reach
Like fish scales gliding across the crests and troughs of your taste buds
Like your bleeding gums from brushing too hard
Like the fit you wish you never had
Like the plastic you weren't supposed to peel off yet
Like the sigh you've been holding off at the back of your throat since he last changed the radio
Like the other side of the shattered windshield you will never know
He tells me he can easily finish it in one sitting
And I silently nod and go back to my vegetables
While he murmurs an apology to Ares for all his lies

Amna is a fifteen-year-old student who likes to explore themes of mental health, eating disorders, and other teenage daily life struggles through her prose and poetry. She has a few online features and publications to her name and aspires to produce creative work as a form of expression as well as escape. You can find her @sepiatistic._ on Instagram.