I love your eyes, but sometimes
they see your reflection in the mirror differently than I do.
Sometimes they stare with such intensity,
looking for any little flaw,
but you only have as many flaws as you let yourself see.
I wish you could see through my eyes,
instead.
I love your mouth, but sometimes it droops
when you compare yourself to others,
or when you see something you wish weren’t there.
It’s prettiest when you smile,
I wish I could give my smile to you,
and take all of those thoughts that hurt you
away.
I love your stomach,
the way that it connects everything from your legs to your arms,
to your shoulders and your neck,
up to your face.
Your face where that smile should be,
and where those eyes should see the reflection
of your smile,
staring back at you in the mirror.
Your legs are my favorite too,
the way that they carry you places
and hold you upright,
the way that they can walk you,
or run you.
I wish you could see how wonderful your legs are.
There are so many things about you,
about your perspective.
If only you could see how beautiful you are.
If only you could see yourself through a different lens.
You’re lovely, all of you. Your mind, your eyes,
your mouth, and stomach and legs.
And I hope,
I wish,
you could see it,
like I do.