different

I do not feel different.
I do not feel like my arms have stretched
Or that my skin has sagged.

In fact the only change I see
Is the crease below my right eye
That taunts me in the reflection.

I still feel lumpy,
Bumpy other days.
Full and overflowing.

Now, however, the too big
Doesn’t fit me physically
It soothes me as I sit
And talk to myself
Differently.

With a softer voice,
It tells me I am too big to feel small,
To waste time and feel worthless.
On a dystopian sunset
I could never dreamt
That I would ever feel

Different.
But, I do.