CC Bloom Poet Free verse

Love Letter, to Me

Dear Me,

At the ripe
and ready age
of 39,
it can still be hard to look...
at me.

I draw
charcoal portraits
of beautiful individuals
and I capture them,
especially
in the eyes.

Why do I
see strangers,
but I elude myself?

I have run
28 marathons,
won 5 small ones,
and countless 5ks,
where I found myself
along the way.

Why can't I see myself
in a piece
of vertical glass?

Jennifer Christina,
you are extraordinary:
from the inside-out,
from the outside-in,
to infinity,
and back again.

Wear the streak of gray hair,
Jennifer,
wear it proudly,
like Rogue from 'X-Men.'

My streak of gray
was painted on me
when I was 17.

I spent a weekend
in a psych ward
at the age of 22.

I fell in love
with the plays
of Anton Chekov
while I was there.

I learned to listen
to people,
and I learned to love
the shape of my legs,
the careful curve of my silhouette,
and the abstractions
of my heart:
an organ that keeps
me alive,
that I will never
hold in my hands.

This is a love letter
to myself
to read again
when I forget to smile
in the mirror,
and I fall back
out of love
with myself.

Jennifer, be kind to Jennifer.

Sincerely,
Me

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