only for lovers of stretch marks (f)

You're looking at an Indian body that makes no apologies — stretch marks tracing the hips and belly like a map of every curve that earned its place.

You find your eyes following each silver line the way fingers would, slowly, with intention. You feel something shift in you, a pull that has nothing to do with perfection and everything to do with realness.

You know exactly what kind of person lingers here longest. You belong to a specific hunger — the kind that finds these marks not despite desire, but because of it.