I Dare You

I dare you.

 

I dare you…to look at my wide forehead, creased with lines left behind from concentrated thought… and say I’m not beautiful.

 

I dare you…to look at my frizzy-fine, puffy, chaotic fro, only 3 years old but matured my soul… and say I’m not beautiful.

 

I dare you…to look at my faint nose dot, always chasing me like the moon, that legend says marks the kiss of an angel… and say I’m not beautiful.

 

I dare you…to look at my warm, caramel skin, littered with my history displayed in birthmarks, stretch marks, and scarmarks… and say I’m not beautiful.

 

I dare you…to look at my small almond eyes, hiding behind frail lashes and always seeking the Truth and revealing my truth…and say I’m not beautiful.

 

I dare you…to look at my lush protruding lips, the resting stop for words of compassion, tickles of laughter and witty speak…and say I’m not beautiful.

 

I dare you.

 

I dare you to say I am beautiful.

 

Sorry for the look I gave. This isn’t really for you.

 

It’s for me.

 

I dare say I am beautiful. I dare to be me.

 

Because who else would dare to be me, love me more than me, than me?

 

I dare to be me, and love me because I can never leave me.

 

The reflections of my mirror and that of the world… remind of that every day.

 

 

image by: John Atherton

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