She says, “I'm too tall”
Because she thinks she is too big to be held
She says, “I hate my voice”
Because she can only hear herself in recordings
She says, “I don’t know what I'm doing”
Because she can’t see past her shortcomings

But what she doesn't know is that with her head up to my chin she is the perfect size to fall into my arms and be wrapped in an embrace bigger than her insecurities
Or that the low, velvet tone of her voice that dances from her lips could never be captured by a video
Or that her imperfections cower in the face of her all her strengths

And she doesn't know
That I do.