Explore the wounds that cover my skin.
The tiny striped trenches the cover my thighs and breasts.
The evidence of my bones stretching and my body growing.
Trace your fingers over me and read the braille that tells the story of transformation:
A stream into a waterfall.
Move up and over the softness of my stomach, which resembles small hills under the horizon
a tiny shallow well right in the middle.
Feel the contours of my face,
The unevenness of my nose.
Brush your fingertip over my lips.
Hear the words of love, lust, adventure,
Because they have all poured from that very spout.
Run your fingers through my mildly greasy hair,
Caress my brain and enter my dreams.
Fall in love with the feeling of acorns cracking under your shoe
And cringe at the memory of two windshields
Crashing against each other at 50mph.
Feel what it's like
To see through my eyes,
To notice all the imperfections I possess.
To love all of those parts of me.
To be comfortable in my skin and to love myself for who I am.
Find my impurities to resemble natures artwork.
The stretch marks on my skin
Like the Grand Canyon,
Cutting through the Earths surface.
These "flaws" are beautifully created,
Showing human qualities,
And never failing to remind me
That I am alive.