Bound around my waist, in the center of my body, a belt squeezes me tight.  No room to shift around under this belt.  It has a sure hold.  The grip is undeniable.  Although, my waist wants to push it off and become flabby with exorbitant delicacies that belt holds tight.  It is a certain length and cannot be added to.  I have found that it is actually much shorter than I once thought. That belt points up to my chest where a protective covering sits.  This covering protects my heart.  The lifeblood that pours through me is filtered underneath this…

It is sad.  This chair I am sitting in.  It has some pretty ugly scars.  It is still incredibly comfortable.  I can prop my feet up on the ottoman or pull my legs up in the chair with me.  It is even big enough for me to lay on my side and catch a short nap. At one time the fabric was my favorite.  I still enjoy the colors.  I still enjoy having this chair.  But it is unsightly now.  I am not really sure if the quality of the fabric was not durable enough for the beatings we have…

She has always seen me differently than I see myself. She looks through eyes of love and forgives my imperfections. She knows they are there but doesn’t get bogged down in the trivial. Her hugs are all encompassing. She wraps her long arms around me and doesn’t hold anything back. She isn’t shy about displaying how she feels. She has hugged me all my life. There is a picture of her and me. I was just a baby. They had put a wig on my head that made me look like a little Native American with long dark braids. But…