Sunday, December 11, 2011

Stretch Marks

Silver lines,
remind me of the time you were mine.
The churning within and building excitement
I felt your kicks and quiet movements.
The knowing month when it was our secret
and nobody else could feel you.
As most, I sometimes wondered
how my body looked
as I stared at the mirror.
Other women buy lotions.
They have surgery to remove the pouch.
But I will not.
As time goes on the milky scent
of you on your little button up shirt
fades slowly into nothing.
Your things can be taken.
But these lines, the pouch
you nestled safely within
are still here.
They will be here with me,
reminders that can not be stolen,
until I need them no longer.
And you are with me.

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