Adornments

Written on August 20th, 2016

my wrist bears mount everest water
and dead sea mud
an Ireland daisy preserved in glass
held by a chain of hearts
a watch, a pedometer, a silent alarm
and a hair tie to pull everything together

my hand bears scars
and callouses
sometimes a pencil or phone
often it carries the weight
of necessary movement
and an inability to hold still

my finger bears a ring
a gold knot sliding between my knuckles
an unbreakable promise
molded to perfection
a physical reminder of what’s in two hearts

my nails bear dents
and chipped off polish
they are rough around the edges
the fruit of anxious picking
weak, they bend too easily
but still protect the tenderness underneath

my face bears laugh lines
and under eye bags
at only nineteen it wrinkles when I smile
acne scars and sun seared freckles
sometimes look like constellations
sometimes look like mistakes

my feet bear me
and mismatched socks
my knees bear cuts from shaving
my thighs show stretch marks
and soft yellow bruises
my torso, ribs and a puffed out stomach
clothes don my body
sweaters and worn out jeans
do I wear these things to stay warm
or to hide what’s underneath?