What if all the pretty words
we wrote for other people,
We wrote for ourselves?
What if we romanticized about
our own flaws,
Instead of those who shouldn't be
romanticized at all?
What if we wrote our own love letters,
Filled with all our treasures?
Could you write of your own pleasures?
A love poem to yourself
All that you've seen,
All that you've felt
Your freckles, the crinkle by your eye
Your laugh when you're high
The way you sing in the car
All your dreams to somewhere far
Could you find the beauty,
In all the small things?
Do you even feel the orchids
growing within?
No more 'I'm sorry's'
No more sin
I know it's so hard to see,
All that's inside you.
*If only you knew