we are beautiful to some stranger eye.
our lips are full for smiling
we got eye,
this eye that hears us is biased;
we compose through convention. we ruin.
we destroy hearts with sounds and stretch marks
then expect the tank not to overflow and though we may never say,
we love ourselves
more than we dare. i do not believe you
when you tell me you love me, because no one could
as much as me.

_