Did you ever think we could've been twins? Not like born together. Not fused like the two sides of an oyster encapsulating a precious pearl. No, I mean like the two sides of a mirror. Perfect opposites. Equally opposite damaged from long days of staring and hoping, and laughing and crying. Begging for things to maybe resolve, maybe become clearer. Maybe disappear with the steam of the 2.AM shower in the pitch dark. Hiding imperfections so that maybe they won't exist. I want to look at us both without fear of what I might see.
I want to see the correct way of viewing things and not the enhanced wrongness of a backward reflection. If we are the same then tell me that from your side we are better. That from your side we are stronger. That....just maybe...from your side, I am right for once.

If only you learned to love me through my imperfections,
The affair of our hearts would have been perfected.

love isn't selfish its selfless you give even if you dont have any left. love isn't screaming shouting nagging love is caring, telling the person his wrong, and trusting, trust him through it all. love isn't always nice but love will surely bring you light.

love isn't focusing on the imperfections love is seeing past it and still feel the affection. love isn't forced conversations or pure negation, love is nonsense talking and affirmation. love isn't perfect, love will bring you rain but love is love and happiness will always reign.
—g l

I gaze in the mirror
at the bumps and blemishes—
unsightly mistakes etched
on a canvas of skin
I pick at all the red spots
𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏
I pick at all the scabs
𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑
I pick at all the scars
𝒏𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕

I peel off all this rotting skin
only to find more layers—
of crippling fear
of clawing jealousy
of heavy shame
eating away at
what is underneath it all—
a woman who does not have
the courage to love herself

imagine living in a world where
“beauty products”
were non-existent
where being
the fullest expression
of yourself
was beauty enough

imagine a world where
human beings were not
shamed for the size of their bellies
defined by their number of “followers”
or judged by the colour of their skin

imagine a world where
we simply accepted each other as
the beautifully imperfect beings
that we are

in the midst of the whirlwind inside
that begat every jagged shard
of which the fragments—ever so carefully shattered—
remain the only reminiscent shadow of what once was
of your heart

that in spending time with you
come deafening bursts of menacing contemplation
bleak musings of pure despair
seemingly intent on dispiriting every bone in your flesh
absent a way to stifle blaring thoughts
amid such daunting solitude

one look in the mirror
paired with words of distaste—
for you seem never to pause for mutterings
other than that of repugnance—
a critic to your own, a belittler
to none other than self

that an unadorned you
bare, stripped down
i will know to love—
every sheer nook and cranny—
for who you are

the greatest terror
lies in digging deep inside of you
and what clandestinity it may reveal
for in my chiseling
a torment so immense will befall you
through which gales you ought to learn
the significance
of knowing how to hold your own hand
and walking you through such tempestuous bits
to learn to quiet your mind,
still your soul

for one does not simply stumble upon the
tranquil silence he yearns to be acquainted with
and the acceptance
he ever so wishfully aches for
but in the midst of such turbulence
i shall set out
to learn to love you
in spite of you