I wonder what I look like through your eyes;
Do you see past the veneer to the woman within?
Through wrinkles and lines that are a manifesto of trials met, mostly with my head held high?
The humor that is my coat of armor, my saving grace when things have gone south.
The slight stutter when I am shy or ill at ease,
My need for time spent in deep introspection.
Do my blue eyes show you my joy and my fears, my deep and abiding love for you?
Do you see through my stubborn bent toward positivity to a past that can’t allow my world be any other way?
If you truly see me, you see a gloriously imperfect woman;
A woman filled with fears and doubts,
But a woman also filled with hope and joy,
And a woman whose heart beats faster because she knows you do see her imperfections and love her all the more.