His New Girlfriend

If you were face to face with his new girlfriend what would you do?

Would you cry, talk, smile

It’s not her fault he moved on too fast

She’s caught in the trap just like you were


You could free her, tell her the deepest darkest secrets of your relationship which unlock the truth of how cruel he can be

Or would you question her, try to decipher if her love for him is as strong as yours was



Would feelings of jealousy course through your veins?

Or a tight knot in your stomach, created with ropes of regret, sadness

Sadness for you or her

Probably both


Would you find yourself making comparisons?

He left you a shell of yourself

And you’re too self-conscious to see yourself as equal to her

Only less


Your heartaches

Because the person you once loved now loves another

And you’ll never truly know how his feelings for you were so easily reassigned to another.


Stretch Marks- A Poem

It’s strange to think that you began your journey as a collection of cells split between two.

Before that you may have been an idea, a dream which was prayed for;

or perhaps you were an unexpected miracle, but a miracle all the same.

Whether planned or not, your selection of cells were joined in a union:




Into a rare natural puzzle which created you.

And from inside the safe space your mother housed you in,

you continued to grow like a seedling sprouting vigorously.

Until you outgrew your mother’s nest.

And it was time to fly free.


From outside your cocoon

your growing intensified.

Outstretched fingers grew and reached to the sky.

Arms doubled in size; legs kicked and wiggled;

And before your parents knew it,

your age had doubled,


Your outline softened

as your body reached the full potential it strived for.

Full growth.


Upon the surface of your skin lines are scattered,

in white and red and purple.

Like flicks of paint on a blank canvas.

Some travelling in groups,

others isolated,

scattered more densely over your inner thighs and stomach.

And you hate them.


But yet,

the reason these artistic brushstrokes exist

is beautiful,


As when your body grew and expanded,

your skin had to stretch over it.

Covering each muscle and nerve ending,

to protect them from the outside.

And these lines are proof of your growth,

a reminder of the amazing creation you are.

Because once you were merely a collection of cells split between two,

And now you are fully formed.

Body Image- A Poem



Who was the person that woke up one day and said ‘only certain body types are acceptable?’

I didn’t get a say.

I’ve just been conditioned to look down at myself and see bumps and lumps which aren’t allowed-

Which aren’t okay-

Which I’m not free to love or feel comfortable with.

From a very young age, I’ve understood the rules-

Here’s the basic checklist for the perfect female body:

Gorgeous curves

Flat stomach


Legs up to your waist




And if you’re not naturally this way then

Dress your body to manipulate it into looking perfect

Synch in that waist

Pad out the rest.

Let clothing flow over the stomach

Contour your chest

When it comes to photos

Breathe in until your stomach is flat and your face is blue

And if all else fails

Edit Edit Edit

And always deny

It’s almost been imbedded in me that I should feel insecure

‘So many people have body issues.’

But why should we?

It doesn’t matter what number’s on the scales, what numbers sewn into your clothes,

We have the right to love our bodies regardless.

How much of our body insecurities are down to our thoughts of how we should look instead of societies standards?

The line is clearly blurred.

I spend my life comparing my body to those around me, strangers in the street, and women on the cover of magazines.

And I find myself feeling inadequate to them.

I don’t have their body

But do you know why that is?

Because I’m me.

I have my body.

And no one has the right to tell me that’s not good enough.

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