You love my eyes, my smile, my hair—
But what of the dryness of my hands,
The birthmark on my neck?
Am I still beautiful at 2 a.m:
Makeup smudged, hair undone,
Eyes half-closed?
What of the wetness beneath my eyes,
My swollen lips and cracked apology?
Do you still think I'm pretty
When I'm crying?
When I've got bruises on my knees,
Blisters on my ankles?
It's morning-time, mid-spring,
The time of freckles, bee stings,
And sweaty cheeks.
If you want me, you'll take it all—
I will not shatter myself
So you can love one piece.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
You love my eyes, my smile, my hair—
But what of the dryness of my hands,
The birthmark on my neck?
Am I still beautiful at 2 a.m:
Makeup smudged, hair undone,
Eyes half-closed?
What of the wetness beneath my eyes,
My swollen lips and cracked apology?
Do you still think I'm pretty
When I'm crying?
When I've got bruises on my knees,
Blisters on my ankles?
It's morning-time, mid-spring,
The time of freckles, bee stings,
And sweaty cheeks.
If you want me, you'll take it all—
I will not shatter myself
So you can love one piece.
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