SHE.

$he.

When I saw her my heart sank - into my shoes.

She is perfect, wearing her tight denim skirt, form fitting over her lean body, color bones exposed with a neck line perfectly carved.

Insecurity flushes me and I grab at my shirt, tugging at the hem so my tummy seems more flat. My legs exposed, I try hiding them beneath my cover-up jearsey.

Sadness overwhelms me when I realize I'm nothing like her. You take my hand and give it a light squeeze. Reassurance that you chose me. Yet, I remain staring at her. Wondering what could have gone to wrong.

She greets me and we chat, now I know. She, with her dainty hands moving through her dark shoulder length hair. Her cheekbones exposed as she laughs at your joke. I comment, staring at her and giving you a little smile, and you still hold my hand.

My eyes tracking her every move as she traces her fingers over her skin, your fingersprints faded but still there. You put your arm around me and my eyes scan over her. Body  language - intimated, sad, missing you.

You blow me a kiss and I wonder why you choose me. Me with my other-wordly formed body, strech mark stained skin. Her skin a delicate white, porcelain. Why did you choose me? Am I worthy enough to you? When I compare myself I lose every time.  I know why you chose me, I am mentally smart enough to know, yet I will still wonder.

You know her better than she knows  herself, but you chose me.

You choose me.  You choose me. You choose me. You choose me. You choose me. YOU. CHOOSE. ME.
My iner voice yells. You choose me.

I'm laying in your embrace, arms wrapped around me. Your warmth touching my skin. Your heartbeat, calm and steady as you're asleep.

I know that I love you, I love you more than anything. I pray that you don't choose her.

"Please don't choose her." My heart exclaims with ache.

She wears tight black and white, and I wore pink.