(permanently) a work in progress

in two hours, you turn twenty-six
(four years from thirty, not that you’re counting).
when your mother points out the “flaws” in your figure,
(breasts that can’t be contained by button-up shirts
& hips that never widened during puberty)
laugh & remember that
her spitefulness is only rivaled by her jealousy.
when you trip in front of the crowd
on the train platform & feel twelve again
(the era of an almost mullet & headgear)
look in the mirror & remember that
you’re not an awkward tween.
when a former party friend suggests
that falling in love rendered you weak,
(being the instigator of wild times
was the mark of a badass)
roll your eyes & remember that
you found strength in accepting yourself.
you are (permanently) a work in progress.

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7 thoughts on “(permanently) a work in progress

  1. With age comes wisdom, and I think this poem reflects that! And sometimes, if we’re lucky, age allows us to be more comfortable in our own skin. I’m not too far from 40, but I wouldn’t go back for anything. Fantastic poem, Samantha!

    Like

  2. Yes! Yes!! Yes!!! We’re always evolving and changing until we can’t anymore at our final breaths. Such a great piece. And again, I just love your use of parentheses.

    Like

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