Through the looking glass,
Is it truly I that I see?
Beauty, confidence and courage, 
Or do I feel something else?
A pound too many or flaw too much,
I wonder if they will recognize the impostor who dares pretend. 
They see what I let them, 
For I wish only to fit in..
Yet, I will never be like the rest,
and I don't have to be.
Makeup and the fashion only hide
The true imperfection that is me.
A beautiful disaster, the exquisite chaos, I am all that but none.
The brisk sea winds whip through my mind,
A faint echo of longing that was,
A soft whisper of what will be.
I cling to my shawl wistfully,
As I hold dearly to my insecure truths.
The crying seagull hearkens my fallacies to the wind,
Yet I cannot stop the weakest tide
From washing away my defenses,
Its bittersweet memories of
Love past and lives gone once more.
Somewhere, your eyes meet mine on the same horizon, 
Beneath the falling fairy stardust of twilight,
My soul kisses yours across the misty expanse.
So imperfectly perfect in its revelry, 
I close my eyes and make a wish,
and in that moment, in your arms, 
We are the perfect storm evermore