sunshine under your ribs

i have loads of little lines littering my limbs

 stretch marks

rippling across sandy terrain

jagged dips into soft, divine skin

tainting, or perhaps painting,

decorating the clean slate with myriads of patterns,

(without making it impure)

(without destroying it)

(without making it worth less than it was before)

weaving a mural around limbs,

narrating a tale of existence,

of trial and error,

and most importantly, growth.