All I am at my mid-riff
is a mass of stretch marks,
left there because I made
myself smaller for you, world,
and then grew larger again
because of the effort
it takes to stop up the blood,
the life from flowing through.
There’s a scar on my right side,
the origin of which I can’t recall.
I only know its new, and I tell
myself you left it there.
It’s comforting. I don’t feel so alone.
Knowing you’ve left your mark on me
and that even when you’re gone,
maybe it will always stay.
Throwback today, because I’ve hit a block for the moment.
I think of this poem often. Every time I’m standing in front of my mirror after a shower, really. That mark has faded in color, but it has gotten wider. As, of course, the real estate it occupies on my stomach also gets wider. 🙂
It’s still comforting. A scar that connects me to love. Whether the love was real, good, or lasting doesn’t matter and never will.