Title: Ode to My Stretch Marks
Author: Heather P.

They make my skin into something amazing and wise,
With traces of ivory that weave over my shell,
And pink coral scars running down my shoulders.

Look at me,
Isn't it beautiful?

I hold my head high because I am finer than any marble statue,
Because I breath through these rose shaped lips,
And wrap these warm and lovely arms around my true love.

They bring you to me,
and you embrace me beautifully, being just the way you are.

I can bet that Aphrodite's skin never shimmered,
Like a spider's web in dim light.

Why did I wish for these stretch marks to fade?
Why did I ever cry over them?
Day and night. Why did I ever think they made my skin ugly?
How could I let others tell me these marks weren't utterly amazing?

You see...
They are my finger print of individuality,
For I am alone in a world of plain skinned girls,
Who are not lucky enough to have this much character in their flesh.
These marks make my body unique,
And just like the patterned snowflake.
I cannot be duplicated!

Make jokes, if you will, but my skin is utterly amazing.

So when I look at me,
and I see my eyes return my gaze in the mirror,
I realize how special these stretch marks make me.

They show the world how I grew too large and too fast for this mortal form.
They show that I can not be contained in the flesh of this body.
They show how my skin tried to contain me and failed.
They show how my body gave up and how I bent it's will,
forcing it to give up and stop trying to contain me.

Now my skin drapes over me the best it can like a fine web,
Marbled with cords of silk dug in my flesh,
Without which I wouldn't be me.