New Poem - Marks

Beaches after the ocean has receded,
        my striated shoulders marked
                    by the surging of the waves.

Once so fat, I now have stretch marks
        on my shoulders, a record carved by
                    the flow of tears. 

These are the least grotesque remnants
        of an old self; they are beautiful
                    as reminders. 

No tattoos, but I have these. 
        Not the results of artful choices but
            the consequence of bad decisions,
                    scars.

I rub ink on my body and press it to paper;
                    the story is one of regret.
-----
For the Greater Madison Writing Project Summer Institute, I have to show up with three different genre pieces that show some aspect of who I am.  I think this might be the poem I use.