I saw your smile fade away
and you tried to sew your mind shut
after you had kicked the idea of loving again
from the premises.

I watched the way
your expression changed
whenever he walked by-
subtle,
but significant.

I know you miss him, darling.
Maybe you don't want him back.
He is not the same.
But, God, you wish he was.

You will never get those years back.
But they have amounted to more than you know
yet.
You will put the rest of the pieces together
in a few years.

You have always had the same smile.

Before him,
beautiful.
With him,
beautiful.
After him,
beautiful.

You have always had that echoing laugh.
That burning love for too many things.
That habit of turning your feelings into metaphors,
and writing thousands of poems instead of telling anyone what's got you down.

These little things that make you, you.

They are still there.

You may have lost some pieces,
but you are still you.

And you've always been beautiful.
You were beautiful before he called you that.
And you will forever be beautiful after.