Sta.sh
it pains me when she says
she isn't beautiful,
because that's the only word
i know how to describe her.
my girl has eyes like crystal.
and i don't know how secretive
she thinks she is but her eyes
are windows.
and every tick of her body
is another morse-code letter
into the word of her emotion
and she's so raw,
so goddamn gorgeous,
that sometimes, i look at her
and start writing love poems
on the inside of my skin,
because this girl will always be with me.
but no matter how many times i say it
she doesn't think she's beautiful.
but what she doesn't know is that
every little thing she finds on her
body that she hates, i love.
the shape of her curves
remind me of cello's,
the skin on her fingers
remind me of soapstone,
and her stretch marks
show the map,
the mountains and valleys,
of her journey to become
the gorgeous young woman she is today.
when all i am is a barely beating heart,
that girl gives me a shot of adrenaline.
and no matter what happens,
what i feel for this girl will be written
on the inside of my skin
closest to my heart.
and it will always pain me when she says
she isn't beautiful
because of a couple of stretch marks.
whoever said stretch marks were bad
has never seen my heart,
because when i see this girl,
it swells to twice its size.
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