I remember that time we went to a public lake.
I was afraid to wear a swimsuit in front of others,
Even chubby children,
And their wrinkling stretch-marked mothers.

I hated my body,
But you held me by the hand,
And told me I was the most beautiful creature,
In the lake or on the land.

I loved you back then,
As we sat in the shade.
And that was probably the biggest mistake that I have ever made.

Not because I let you tell me I was beautiful,
But because I thought your love ran deep,
Though it turned out to be fake,
And perhaps even more shallow
Than that puddle of a lake.