Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash
I was hot once.
Second glances followed
me home
like puppies smelling
steak and cuddles.
Ripe melons perched
under my collar bone,
hips swaying like
a porch swing
under a willow tree.
Seriously.
I was hot.
I didn't meet stretch marks
until my 10-pound bundles
of joy
introduced us.
Then twins arrived
to strike the final deal,
signing my middle with
a flourish,
matching it to
a roadmap of Texas.
My husband ran
his hand across
my wrinkled stomach.
"You're hot"
he said.
He loves the lines
dancing over me.
To him
they tell the story
of us.
About the Creator
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Comments (2)
Love this.
Beautiful piece