The Things He Never Told Me (a love poem to myself)

You are most beautiful when you're a mess:
Your air tousled from the night before,
with wisps that fall just perfectly around your face,
framing dark, inquisitive eyes that hold the deepest truths...
An oversized shirt that swallows you, yet hangs off your hips and bosom just enough...
Legs bare and free, a sight subtly seductive to thoughts of wrapping around his waist
Or sitting cross-legged enraptured by your quiet passions,
Smudging paint all over your blissfully unaware hands.
Feet small and dainty, roughened by the wild love of going barefoot
and the long days as a working woman,
but your toes point when you walk like you know you're divine.
A few of your most shattering revelations have come to you like this;
Guileless and unafraid.