"I feel so ugly today!"
"No, you're just sick. That's all, sweetie."

Her frizzy hair was in a messy bun
And her body was dressed in the finest sweats;
Her forehead was covered in a patch of acne,
Her skin dry and oily all at once;
As she held her bloated belly, she felt fat
And the cramps made her blood shot eyes tear;
To add to the occasion of her monthly gift
She had the flu, nose running
And a cough that could wake up the dead.

He laid beside her, arm around her shoulder,
He had tucked her under several blankets,
Cooked some soup, made her tea
And as he kissed the top of her head,
He whispered, "Tell me whatever it is you need."

Cheeks red hot under her fever pale skin,
She smiled, lost in the haze of her condition,
"I need you to know something."

He looked into her swollen eyes,
"You can tell me anything," he urged.

"This is the ugliest you'll ever see me, I promise."
She made him smile as she added,
"Unless I am mauled by a lion or bear,"
And then she made his smile drop,
"Or if you fall out of love with me one day."

He didn't know what to say, he wanted to protest.
She shook her head:
"Love is blind, you see and that's okay."
She insisted:
"At least love is still love."