Take a look in the mirror. Trace your shape- the crevices and your favorite places. Touch the back of your neck where softness meets fingertips. I know a little too much arches your back. With those eyes like the brown at sunset in between the slits of trees. Take your hands and examine all your imperfections; the tiny wrinkles, the trembling before holding someone else's homemade wrists and palms and knuckles. I hope that you know how much love you carry inside, and that one day all the stars and the planets that swim under those sleepy eyelids will explode revealing promises made to be kept and tiny folded notes scribbled with a million "i told you so"s. Because life for you is just beginning, and there is no room for feeling anything but everything.
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