22 years

for 22 years, I waited for the words

either from my most beloved

or from a single stranger.

I stared and stared at my image

my reflection

never allowing it to be captured

refusing to have it frozen,

unchangeable.

to me, I was still a damp piece of clay

yet to be molded into an image of beauty

if I tried hard enough, ate less than enough

then maybe,

after these last 22 years of waiting

the words from a beloved or a stranger

would finally be spoken

and I would finally be beautiful.

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