Perhaps you have been made to words:
You– the you that were so speechless and timid.

But then, you started to speak in soul-wrenching letters.
You bathe in them– you, are the poetry–
The very poetry that you are always so afraid to write.

Because, Love, you are so much more.
So much more than the laughter that was thrown on you.
You are crafted from the sweetness and kindness,
All that put those who laughed at you into shame.

You, with all your flaws– your scars– everything;
Every single thing that you see in you,
Every single thing in you that you consider imperfect.

Here, Love, let me tell you what I see:

I see galaxies in your eyes,
I see fire in your hair,
I see journeys in your palms,
And I see adventures waiting in your smile.

More importantly, I see what you cannot.

That you, Love, are absolutely,
Irrevocably perfect.



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