Beautifully Painfully Honest

Scars reach for the ground like lightning striking home.
A busted can of biscuits falling to the floor  
20 years of abuse, misuse, and neglect
causing tears to run
and eyes evade.
How can someone love something so terribly beautiful?
Stretch marks measuring the number of times I've created love,
little balls of love hiding away for months
until finally delivered after hours of pain,
into this cruel world of political dispute,
gender roles,
and beauty standards.
Unable to live up to them
despite the starvation of one eager individual.

Beauty is pain,
And pain is everything
everything needed to remember that you are living.
that I am living.
What is beauty?
What is pain?
What is this life of a beautiful body
if I can't be beautifully naked?
Beautifully okay with being beautifully naked.
Painfully Beautifully Naked and Painfully able to love it.