In Front of the Mirror

He pulls me close
locks eyes
right as I wrap around him

his breath says
look at me
but I hesitate

not because I don’t want him
I do
God, I do

but because I feel too bare
like my face might ruin
what my body just gave

what if the softness in my cheeks
makes me look weak
what if the heat in my eyes
isn’t the kind he craves

so I glance
then retreat
moan
then hide

trying to be beauty
while giving him everything

when I’m riding him
he reaches for my hips
but it’s my face
he really wants

he looks up
mouth parted, eyes wide
asking for my gaze
like it’s the finish line

and I want to give it
God, I want to
but the way he sees me
makes me fold into myself

I feel my thighs jiggle
my stomach tighten
my face twist into something
I’ve never called beautiful

so I close my eyes
not to block him out
but to protect the girl in me
still learning how to be seen
and still feel lovely

he’s obsessed
with the part of me
I’ve learned to hide

he cups my breast
kisses the one I once grieved
where skin puckers
where pain once bloomed

he doesn’t ask questions
doesn’t flinch
just grazes the scar like it’s sacred
like it’s a map
that still leads to softness

and in his hands
I feel less broken
not because the wound is gone
but because he doesn’t need me healed
to find me beautiful

‍