Me and you,
We were a perfect day.
Where the sun shone bright
And the sky was the most
Beautiful shade of blue.

Now I can only try
And picture what's left.
A day of fog and grey clouds
And sad rain.

Where did the sun go?

When you go and talk to me,
You're the only one I see.
Your face makes me go into shock
My stomach feels like it's a rock.

Sometimes, I have no words to say
For when you make me feel this way.
I don't know if it's in my head,
I don't know if it's what we said.

Two words for you are: so. intense.
This isn't making any sense.
My face always lights up the town
When you say, "I'll see you around."

My happy even beats the sun
It's always there, I'm never done.
It's different every time we talk
You'll be the key, my heart's the lock.

But there's one thing I need to know-
Is it my head, or is it us both?

I remember
Those splendid days
So full of hope
And laced with timeless wonder

Those splended days
Each and every one of them
Loved, as if they were treasures in a chest
As if they were colors and magic, floating through air

Those Sundays
When I would sneak out and peek into the mailbox
Sure that I was invisible to the world
With that same hope

Maybe an early Hogwarts letter?
Maybe an early birthday present?
Something wonderful,
Something just for me

Now and then,
I catch a glimpse of that very same
Sunday hope, still living with magic
Inside of my mailbox.

There's a difference between looking and
seeing.

You can look at me,
but I wonder more
what you see.

Brown eyes,
brown hair,
barely more than
five feet tall;
my feet are small,
as are my hands;
my teeth are straight,
thanks to braces;
shoulders been broad
since I swam,
but my figure
is much less athletic
than it used to be.

I could look
at myself
and point out
a million flaws.
My forehead is much
too big for my liking,
my cheeks are too red,
my top lip is so
skinny it barely
exists,
and, if you ask me,
my waist line
could afford
to look a little more
like my upper lip.

My looks are far from perfect.
Not saying I'm hideous,
but I don't look
in the mirror
to find
America's Next Top Model,
or anything close,
at least not until
my face is perfectly painted,
flaws concealed under
a combination
of moderately priced makeup and
a rather crafty hand.

When I look,
physical imperfections
and inadequacies
stare back at me.
My overly expressive
light brown eyes
give me an
omnipotent glance,
and they beg me to
turn away,
to close them,
to put them to sleep
so that I can
see.

When I see,
it's like a whole new me.
I'm a human being
whose physical flaws
are diminished by
an overly giving, compassionate
heart,
a brain
filled of logic & curiosity,
a chest
swollen full of
endless giggles,
a throat
storing sarcastic words mixed in with
empathetic phrases;
down within me
I see
the woman
who still at times
looks and feels
more like the girl
whose heart has been broken
too many times to count
but still, despite her
womanly pessimism,
yearns optimistically
to love again.
Within me I see
a woman with confidence
and also insecurity,
ambition and fear,
tranquility and rage,
hope and despair;
I see dreams,
wishes,
prayers,
meditation;
I see a beautifully
complex soul
trapped in a world
that begs it for
simplicity and
conformity.

I guess when I look
I only get a glimpse
of the body
that feels the need
to be perfect,
to work out a little more,
to weigh a little less,
to fix her hair the right way,
and to dress in the right clothes.
The self-conscious me
who still fears being weird,
who cares what others think,
who worries if my parents are proud.

But when I see,
out comes the woman
who says
**** the status quo,
I can't be put in a box,
I'm beautiful the way I am,
and nothing stands
between
me
and achieving
my
dreams.

When I look,
I don't see,
but when I see,
I see me.

I feel the brim of my glasses graze my nose,
and I know,
even once I take 'em off,
my vision
is better
than ever.