Pretty Skin

I saw a river in her stretch marks
It was beautiful
I knew if I travelled long enough 
I'd find her delta
The place where she began. 
Her ocean was so wide
I'd never come close to knowing her depth 
Not for lack of trying though
It was her waters
Her waters weren't as clear as I thought they'd be
I thought the ocean would know it's beauty was in it's vastness
But I guess 
It had been polluted by plastic bottles with messages written meant to shrink it
To cut it down
Because not everybody liked the feeling of waves soft enough to rock you to sleep or still you should you keep fighting her natural rhythm
Ignorant people
Unappreciative of both quiet and loud strength
Unable to see the damage their plastic words do to beautiful and natural things 
They don't deserve timid salt crystal kisses so soft they crumble down your skin
Their only residue left in eyes wet from scales and stars 
That look to futures of gift giving. 
Her stretch marks take me on adventures and journeys
That without
I'd be poorer a woman for. 
So I kiss her rivers and ocean
Because the longer they run
And the bigger it is
The more I learn about her nature.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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