At the end of the day

At the end of the day
I am still the same
I was at the start.
though, my hands
are ink spattered
from recording my thoughts;
my arms are
worn out
from carrying books
they say will give me knowlege;
my jeans are lose
from stretching my legs
throuout the day;
and my cheek
has a swipe of paint \accross the bone.
My nails are chipped
from playing in
gym class;
\my eyes hurt
from squinting
in the hall.

But...
my lips have
been kissed
by the love of my life
and my hand has been held
by a hand
I'll never let go
and my body
has bee comforted
by arms
I always want
around me
and my heart
has been stretched
to accomodate
his love.

So at the end
of the day
as I lay my head
to rest
I think about how
much I have changed
and though
my hands
may be dirty
and my nails
may be chipped
y heart is full
and I
prefer it that way