by
Blair Hill
It’s hard to hate myself
when I’m with you.
You kiss away my flaws,
so I almost forget them.
Smeared mascara turns to
tiger stripes as you
utter assurances and
envelop me with warmth.
You look at me like
I’m the only thing
worth beholding, but
you do more than look.
You see.
Even when all I want to do
is hide beneath my shame,
you pull me into the sunshine.
You remind me to breathe.
You trace my freckles
with your fingertips:
creating countless
constellations.
A laugh escapes my lips
and you catch it in your palm:
embracing it as you would
a loved one.
Am I a loved one?
Edited by: Basma Amer