One face looks out from his eyes, a pure reflection of his deepest desire.
Flawed skin, unkempt hair, thick thighs - he sees her every flaw and accepts  them.
Every scar and freckle, every strand of frizzy hair, every single stretch mark that appears, he sees everything, and still he worships her.
The clumsy way she walks.
The way she sings too loudly with the radio.
The sparkle in her eye every time she sees a dog,
He sees her, and he loves her.
Her flaws become his obsession
And no matter how she appears to the world,
To him, she is nothing but perfection.

For all my life, all I had ever wanted was for someone to tell me I am beautiful, I'm enough.
That they loved me and thought me perfect, completely unflawed.
But you know what, recently I had an epiphany.
I was flawed and my flaws merely added to or maybe were my entire beauty.
I don't live to be perfect, I live to be me.
And me is a flawed beautiful fierce thing that now I want you to see.
Because I don't want to be seen anything less than,
The wild raging mess of a storm I am.