Anorexia

[[This is the begining of a poem i was writing about Anorexia, i never got to finish it though. Tell me what you think?]]

She looks in the mirror and pokes at her thighs.
She slides her hands over her stomach,
and she smiles as her hand glides over a bone.
Not a morsel of food will pass her lips.

She looks as if the slightest breeze will blow her away.
As if the slightest touch would break her.
So pale and fragile looking, yet so elegant.
Not a morsel of food will pass her lips.