M-art-sterpiece

I don’t know where I ought to start.
From your eyes or your brows? Your smiles or your frowns?
It really is impossible to tell that which keeps me enthralled.
Though it’s all a facade, the confidence you show so often.
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 compliments, having your name in the same sentence 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 vocal 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 understand the art you are yourself. To appreciate every single detail besides, no eyes are truer than your own.
So, Till your dark orbs offer you my doting truth and you begin to see yourself as you really should
I’ll remind you in every way there is.