The Cracks On Your Skin

“What are those cracks on your skin?”

I searched and searched the surface

Trying desperately to find this blemish

Was I cut, hurt, damaged in some way?

There was nothing I could see

I was young, a child at heart

How could I be broken so early?

“Why are there cracks on your thighs?”

There, right under my bikini line

Stretch marks resided upon my skin

Did I ruin, destroy, lessen in some way?

Now it was all I could ever see

My childhood over, adulthood begun

How could I love myself after this discovery?

“Where do the cracks come from?”

The growing of hips, breasts, thighs

My beautiful metamorphosis hinting faults

Could I ignore, hide, avoid in some way?

Bingeing and brokenness showed on my skin

Two terrors a part of dealing with the gaining growth

How could I change my acceptance of them?

“How did you learn to love the cracked imperfection?”

I searched and searched the surface

And I realized the beauty of every crevice

Why did I question, challenge, hesitate in some way?

Every “crack,” every line stretched wide

Runs down, across, through, from me

How could I hate the sign of life?

“Why do you accept the cracks on your skin?”

I do not accept the pains of my past

Rather, I embrace the signs of growth

What did I learn, see, find in some way?

The lines share my story of struggle and life

But no longer does the pain define me now

How could I grow if I never loved them?

How could I grow if I never loved myself?