The Marks of Life

As I lie here naked,

I catch glimpses of them.

Some scattered disorderly on me left thigh,

Others straight and regimented on my right.


White lines of mistakes.

Places where I’ve tried to erase my skin,

To get rid of the mistake underneath.

Barely noticeable unless looked for.


As I lie her naked,

I catch glimpses of the constant reminders.

Stretches I’ve acquired from a different gain,

A gain that my body has had to adjust to.


Marks that I’ve gained with weight.

Purple marks of failure,

On a porcelain background.

Unfortunate perfections that break me.


As I lie her naked,

I count them one by one.

Plotted in places I love and hate,

Hidden secret places only lovers will know of.


Small brown dots scattered across my skin.

A dot on my hip, a smaller one under my left breast,

Only acknowledged by the obsessed or loathing.

Not immediately worried about.


The marks that hold together my every being,

The marks of life.



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