Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2018
I run my thumb over the stretch marks on the inside of my thighs.
Smooth grooves, not deep, not long,
Reminiscent of the weight gained
That made my *** expand and boys notice me,
Not because they liked me
But because they saw this growth.
These lines tell a short story
About my transition into adulthood.
My transition into catcalling and
Being called bubble **** and
Being told I must be able to dance because of my ***.
Small creases, barely noticeable
But significant to my life
My being
Our pain.
I am not proud of these marks
That become visible every time I sit
Criss-crossed and quickly realize they’re there again and move my legs together.
No, I am not proud of these marks.
Devon Haley
Written by
Devon Haley  22/F/New Jersey, USA
(22/F/New Jersey, USA)   
193
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems