I once read a poem.

I remember exactly what it felt like,

reading her words

becoming so lucidly aware of what she felt.

Honestly, I appreciated her more and more after reading it, purely because she’d opened a door that I’d spent years trying to find the key for.

I thought I’d return the favour by writing a poem for her.

Maybe I’d say hi first. I would like to ask how her day was and if she’s okay.

I’d then ask her if she knew how powerful her fingertips were because she effortlessly created such powerful images with her words.

After that I think I’ll tell her that she’s strong,

beautiful

and smart.

The most important thing I think I’d like to tell her is that she needs to let go of this idea of wanting to be so good looking,

because, quite frankly, being pretty is not the rent you pay for living on this earth,

and perfection is nothing more than a symphony of imperfections,

so maybe she’s actually perfect and it just takes a poem for her to realize it,

just like her poem made me realize.

And to think I say all of this just because,

I once read a poem.