I don’t know where to start from. Whether it’s your eyes or your brows,
your smiles or your frowns that
Keep me enchanted.
Beneath it at all I can see it’s a façade
That you worry about this.
About how your smile gives away too much.
About how your imperfections jump to the fore every time there’s a slither of joy
Even with all the praise and adulation, having your name in the same space as beautiful still chills your spine.
Could I blame you though?
Even art must feel self conscious with all the prying eyes that stare ever so often.
Do these eyes shine bright enough? Do my lips turn up enough? Should I smile less?
I do understand and so, can I really blame you if you don’t believe me when I’m factual about how beautiful you are?
When you cringe every now and then when I’m lost in your eyes or captivated by how perfectly your imperfections paint such a masterpiece of a person?
I suppose you’ll have to learn to appreciate the art you are yourself. But it’s my word you’ll never have to do it alone
Till your dark orb offers you my doting truth
And you begin to see yourself as you should
