I'd like you to tell me
that you like it when I tuck my hair
behind my ears

That you don't mind how stupid my laugh is
tears running down my face
turning all of me red

That you like
The mottled white dots
on all my teeth,
the freckle constellations on my arms,
and the scars on my knees.

and until there's someone to
like me for these
then I suppose
that person will have to be me.