I do not see what you see.  For if I did, maybe then, I could love myself the way you love me.

Love my legs for the strength and beauty, rather than for the way you whistle at them.

Love my smile and face just because, rather than for the way it brings light to yours.

Love my heart and soul, for more than the way they try so hard to please you.

To feel comfortable in my own skin and body, only seems possible when you are there to agree. I never learned to love myself before you, and now I fear,

*What happens when you no longer whistle your affection for my legs?

What happens when my smile no longer brings light to your face?

What purpose will my heart and soul have, when you no longer wish to be in their company?