Dear X Poetry - Fiction and the Dead

To an adolescent

You are beautiful, even though the other ducklings
can't see beyond your awkward lankiness
and gangly limbs that fling akimbo on a torso
out of pace with your feet. Grace takes growing
into and comes with curves and hormones
even as your skin stops attacking itself.
You are beautiful, even though you
can't see through the image in the mirror;
I do and I believe in what I can't see
but know is there.
 
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