She worries about her weight.
Pokes her fingers at her own
Sides and shakes her head at
Things in shops with her
Name on them, saying no to
One more inch to cover up
Confidence.

And the fact that she was more
Pride and less woman before
Is as uninteresting to me   
As anything other than the
Process of being revealed unto is
To the man on her bed that has
Nothing more to reveal himself,

So stop with the fingers. No more
Covering up behind your arms.
Stop with the excuses and the
Headshakes; yes, I'll go to the
Gym with you.
Tomorrow. Today, I have a menu
Full of enjoyment to offer,

And I will not rest until you
Need to, full and content, loosen
The buckle of your displeasement
And lean back, exhaling softly,
Warm and drying in the soothing
Autumn breeze from the cracked
Window; content. Confident.