Maria Clara Had Imposter Syndrome

I don’t know when I stopped

believing

in fairy tales

and started believing

in you.

Maybe around the time when

nobody else knew me,

perching underneath their gazes,

and then you walked in,

took one look at my soul

and figured me out

in ten seconds flat.

Watch me. Listen to me. I’m here and I –

matter.

Or the time you called me beautiful.

Nobody else says that and means it

quite like you.

Sometimes I forget I’m only beautiful to you.