So you’re not feeling pretty? But you are pretty, inside and out, somewhat damaged but aren’t we all.
You’re made of magic, you’re a muse and a shining star.
Inside of you grow gardens of rare flowers and their petals are your skin.
Your skeleton is inlaid with diamonds and you shoot throwing knives from your eyes. Blow kisses like poison darts.
You wave your hand and make the space time continuum waver radiantly, giving me glimpses of alternate realities.
You turn the tides of oceans with your mind and with your darkest thoughts call storms.
So you’re not feeling pretty?
Well I can tell you that there are more important things to feel.
Like the way I feel like a black hole is tugging at my soul every moment that you are lost in darkness.
And if you’ll let me, I will be your mirror, to reflect the truth of who you are more elegantly than a piece of glass ever could.