And when you call me "beautiful"

I know I am not

But I know that you are not lying:

That is just the way you see me. 

Saturn bby Blue

There was a time when I had nobody. And then Ms.Blue came along. 

With that lovely face of yours, your personality. 

-Willful- grandpa said. 

Beauty goes beyond your name and your face. Don't let anyone try to convince you otherwise. 

Thanks for teaching me how to overcome my fears. 

Sometimes I just want to go to your room, hold you tight and touch your hair: pretend you are still my baby. 

But you are all grown up, a beautiful strong woman. 

You make me so proud. 

Then I see you wearing my old tops or when we go to the store and you choose a dress that looks just like the one I had when I was your age. My heart warms at those memories, my precious daughter, but then some dark days come back from my past and I feel so relieved to have you next to me and I pray for better days for you. 

I hope that your light will always shine bright and that you drive your life better than I did mine. 

I love you. 

And always will. 

There was a time when I was nobody. And then I was your mom. 

Seventeen

I'll try to find a way to explain to you how I was. How my hips were sharp and my hands were long and my breasts so big in my otherwise tiny frame.

How I'd go out in a see-through white spandex shirt paired with jeans and I did not care. A true rebel at sixteen enjoying life even though I never felt beautiful.

Cause there were always others prettier than me. But I was the one wearing the lowest neckline.  I had the highest heels. I was the one ready to spend the night with you.

I would stick my hand beneath your jeans without batting an eye. You may not notice me at first, but surely you would hear about me. And maybe find a dark, lonely room where I could disgrace you. Or share bodily fluids or simply listen to music together.

And maybe later act like nothing happened. And I would never see you get old and gray. And if there ever was a "we", it would be locked and lost in that one moment. Because at seventeen life is not the same as it is at forty-something and desire seems more important than a home and fortune and because those days are never coming back, did they really happen?

I was the hero in my own story. But now, who is writing these lines?