Scars…
Seems…
Raised ridges.
Smooth pink colored ropes,
a picture frame around my breast.
Rounded smooth flesh protrudes from neat embroidered stitches
like a bra with an underwire tucked tight and smooth. Soft transplanted flesh fills out the whole.
«ð»
I am often asked to describe what my transplanted breast looks like. This is one attempt in Fibonacci form. It is my unwanted reality.
Written for Prompt 39 An Unwanted Reality by mindlovemisery
Fibonacci: a poem with syllabic lines of 0 or 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21 and so on. The prior two lines make the syllabic number for the following line. Most poets stop at 13 syllables.
Fantasies of a Forlorn Fairy 