Borrow My Eyes

If I could give you anything at all,
it would not be promises,
not forever spoken too quickly,
not words dressed in glittering certainty —
I would give you a moment
inside the way I see you.

Just one quiet hour
where doubt forgets your name,
where mirrors stop arguing with your soul,
where the voice that tells you you are not enough
finally grows tired and falls asleep.

You walk through life carefully,
as if joy might break beneath your feet,
as if love must be earned
through exhaustion and silence.
You hide your softness
like it is something fragile,
something the world might steal
if it notices too closely.

But I have watched you —
in the spaces you think no one sees.

I have seen you smile at strangers
as though kindness costs nothing.
I have seen you carry your pain politely,
folded neatly behind brave conversations.
I have seen you rebuild yourself
after storms you never speak about.

You call yourself ordinary.
I call you resilient.

You notice every flaw
the way night notices stars —
counting endlessly,
never realizing the darkness itself
is what makes the light visible.

If only you could stand beside me
and look at yourself from here,
you would not see imperfections.
You would see a story still growing,
a heart learning courage
one quiet day at a time.

You would see beauty
not loud or demanding,
but steady —
like sunrise arriving without applause,
certain of its purpose
even when no one is watching.

There are moments
when you laugh without thinking,
and in those seconds
you are completely free.
No fear, no comparison,
no invisible weight on your shoulders.
That is the real you —
the one I wish you knew.

You think love comes
from becoming someone better.
But love began the moment
you were simply yourself.

Your scars are not interruptions;
they are chapters.
Your doubts are not failures;
they are proof you care deeply enough to feel.
Even your broken days
carry a quiet kind of beauty —
because you still rise from them.

If I could lend you my eyes,
you would see how people soften around you,
how conversations grow warmer,
how silence feels safe instead of empty.
You would see how your presence
changes rooms without effort.

And maybe, just maybe,
you would forgive yourself
for not being perfect.

One day,
you will look into a mirror
and not search for what is missing.
You will stand there peacefully,
recognizing the strength
that survived every unseen battle.

On that day,
you will not need my eyes anymore.

You will finally understand
what I have always known —
that you were never difficult to love,
never too much,
never not enough.

You were only waiting
to meet yourself
with kindness.

And when that moment comes,
the world will not change —
but you will.

And you will shine
the way you always have,
only now
you will believe it too.