She’s smiling, I say to myself
So pretty and conspicuous.
Her smile, I say to myself
Is what lights up a person’s day, stopping dead in their tracks.
She smiles, I think to myself
A smile that doesn’t reflect the feeling she portrays.
She has lines, I whisper to myself
Lines that run deeper than they seem.
Her eyes shine, I say to myself
Look, look at her, so serene.
A reflection devoid of distortion,
immaculate in all beauty and grace.
She hugs herself, a snapshot of doubt,
Caught in the crime of frozen insecurity.
All but a fractured reflection of what she wants to be,
inspected through a lens of hard judgment.
There she stands, a portrait of perfection,
a rose without the sharp thorns, never piercing inward.
A flawless figurine, that alluring laughter,
that I sing along to, pricking my heart somewhere, I didn’t know could bleed.
Here she’s stuck, I think to myself
in a reflection of utter disproportion and blemishes.
She’s smiling, but does nobody understand
The weight she carries under all that ‘joy’?
She deserves the spotlight, I know,
yet my mirror mocks the cracks my mind traces.
Hesitantly, I smile, look at her, look at her now
unbothered, unflinching, whole, I can only wish.
I know I’m not without beauty, yet still,
my chest tightens when the shutter clicks,
when a stranger’s gaze lingers too long,
and I am left gazing at a reflection stitched with flaws.
Unflinching, I flinch.
Not flawless I am in the mirror, but I am
flawless in my craft.
Scattering kindness like tulip petals,
hands always open, heart always offering.
True beauty that is, indeed, my dear heart!