Blemish

Baby I'm imperfect.
Below this make up, are shades of blemishes before the surface.
So please don’t tell me I’m beautiful.
At least not yet.
You haven’t met me.
If I cry, and mascara dries under my eyes,
If my concealer melts under the sun,
If one day I wake up, think no makeup- I’m done.
And you see through the scars on my face.
Embrace my soul with true love and grace.
If you can look through it all,
See into what I really am,
And if you tell me I’m beautiful even then,
Then baby I’ll believe you.
I’ll believe I’m beautiful.

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