Ode to My Stretch Marks

You winding broken arrow roads
Thin white vines that decorate
my breasts, my thighs
Play peek a boo along my sides

You tiny tendrils
that beg to be traced by fingertips
You treasure trails
You trophies

Like the haphazard marks
on the corner of the kitchen wall
that track the height of the small life
you helped house
you are my markers
The history of skin
swell, stretch, shrink

You, the battle scars
The nick marks on a primitive man’s war stick
The faded glory medals
Soft, resilient, tough

You, a reminder that traumas long past
leave behind a mark you can see if you look hard enough

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