Standing in front of the mirror,

Just myself

And I.

I love the girl staring back at me from behind the glass.

Strong thighs,

Brown eyes,

Every flaw and ounce of fat,

Is me.

I love the girl whose eyes meet mine.

She cheers me up

And reminds me that I am still beautiful

When I feel the opposite.

She can speak (some) Spanish.

 She knows how to read,

And write.

She can paint,

And drive,

And sing, although poorly.

She speaks,

And her voice echoes through space.

She has presence when she enters a room.

She fears nothing,

And yet,

She feels less than,

Unworthy,

Imperfect.

Silent voices crawl throughout the chambers of her mind,

And tell her to be mute

To shrink herself.

They tell her she does not deserve to make noise.

And because of them, she sits.

And she thinks.

Speaking only when asked to.

And wishing for more.