You told me
that I am beautiful.
I could see it in your eyes –
you meant every word.
I smiled and thanked you,
and my gratitude was sincere
but my belief is lacking.
I believe that you seem to think I am,
but what I see in myself is a different thing
a milder term…
smaller. Not so bold
so eye-catching and spectacular
and unbelievably complimentary.
I’m merely the girl who couldn’t grow up
the one with the boyish hair
the awkward stance
the personality that is TOO MUCH,
the body that is overly curvaceous
and the voice that is alternatively too bold
and too meek.
I wish I saw what you saw in that moment.
I only have you as my mirror.