If the room is empty, do you fill it?

he asked me 
like all boys do
if i had ever been bold enough to
fill an empty room 
and i told
him that if i had it would have
been just a part of the
lies we make to teach boys
to love us-- im counting
the times ive pretended 
not to be sick so someone
would make me into something
to pray at-- i pray at microwaves
and the feet of boy-kings--
so that they know they want
to kiss me
only if i were a 
statue could i fill the vastness 
of a room with other people standing there--
we are all vast but flash-light lit
under our covers-- i was vast when 
i sat on the ledge out my window--
a vast match stick play ground--
a vast church yard with just
enough trees to last us from dawn
to dusk--
i pray at my visitation hours--
pray at ghosts who clap
to wake me up so i dont forget
the morning in sick like 
me on knuckles of a bearded dragon--
we teach boys if they fall out
of love she's crazy and she falls
in love she's crazy and if she's crazy
she's another girl we sat on
display in the windowsill
next to the African violets
of our mothers--
no one waters them anymore--
he pierced me ears with 
juju bees and a spoon of honey--
he promised after he made me
into a goddess-- who 
ever wanted to be a goddess--
all ive every wanted was to
have a room to fill by myself--
a plastic planter to become
an orchid-- steal the mist from
your tea cup and leave 
the spoon of honey
im big enough now to almost
fill a button hole-- while you still
think im as wide as a fireplace--
voice thick thrum in a bushel of mum
who learned to laugh when everything
is dying again--
mar my statue with marigolds
and kiss me when coil in your grease--
your white napkin fingers that
teach me how to look
less like a dying girl-- pin
my skeleton to a cork board--
you can't love anorexia out of a body--
only i can do that
but it's nice to pretend to fill
a room and have you watch me 
and believe that for a second
i am the house plant that feeds herself--
paints a rain cloud out of honey 
and chai breath
for now ill work my way through
each button hole on my sweater-- 
i lied when i said id never cheat--
i kiss my own collar bones in the mirror
each morning-- trace her hips
like soup ladles-- like the spoon fulls of
honey you wish that i ate--
i know ill find you
outside the door to this house
i can never manage to fill--
somehow i only seem to succeed in 
becoming more and more like
the first purple advent candle--
the fire place where my body
will lie in wake--
serve me waffles at my brunch--
ill put on a show and eat them
with the jaws i hid in my hands--
believe me believe me 
run away from the crazy girl--
you know not to follow me into
the labyrinth hedges of my thumbs-- 
enter the trance of honey
and circles and windowsills and 
over-watering the African violets 
until they drown delirious from thirst--
i know he'll wait outside my 
house in the february 
to kiss me goodnight-- pray at the
feet of a stair case-- for
a girl he's never actually kissed--
i learned to kiss myself because
that's the only way to teach yourself
to love-- i love this sick girl--
the violets always come back 
when you remember them 
and honey doesn't go bad from waiting--
you hand him yourself 
in polished fragments of
a cupcake skirt-- kiss him
only in the presence of mirrors
so somewhere close you can
see yourself enough to fake love
fake yourself to engulf a room--
girl body waterfall
girl body statues-- he feeds
you pearl necklaces of grapes
and then you escape into
your own thumbs you have learned to
fill-- fill me mirror
fill me crazy girl i love
more than a prayer at a microwave--
im an anorexic-- obsessive compulsive
disorderly queen-- the panic attack
you left on the cusp of a honey spoon--
im scared of the windowsill--
anxious of the coil of my 
own thumb prints-- yes i left
you in dissociation-- no 
im not just the husk of a green
bottle haunted by hysteria--
this body is a mirror 
in my reflect has no ghosts
she only know how to glow
and i kiss her like an anchor--
i know i can't help but lie
and tell you that i can fill
as many empty room as you take me
to-- who doesn't want a boy to
pray at them from the bare feet
of a staircase?
just know you love my mirrors--
you know better not to 
love the crazy girl-- 
im not saying you kiss a skeleton 
when you kiss me-- but no one
would kiss me if they know
he was watching-- they 
were watching-- 
watch me kiss myself from a button hole--
walk out in between the hedges--
topography of my fingers--
i hold hands with myself--
and the boy-king still thinks 
he has a muse--