I have stretch marks
pretty much all over.
The weight I gained from the feelings that
I tucked away under a belt,
that’s what those are.

From the long afternoons I spent
learning bad habits from the one
who’s supposed to teach me how to be good.

I turned out pretty sweet
even through some not-so-sweet times.
Maybe it’s from all of the sweets.
I would guess so.

I’m glad I’m who I am.
I forget that I have lots of good things inside of me
that are worth appreciating & worth glorifying.

Telling yourself you hate someone
who’ll never really go away
makes you realize that
even though they don’t know what you know,
they’re worth something.

Someday I am going to have more stretch marks,
when I meet a beautiful man or woman that is ready to have a family & he’ll see me, happy, from high above or low below or from a train or in an airport
or from our window that faces the woods
& I’ll be proud of those stretch marks & that little baby & my radiant partner.

I think he did the best he could while he was here.