I stand just so.
Your camera winks me into permanence.
acne scars
             tired eyes
wrinkles on my forehead
more naked than I have ever been
             (especially to one
             I love so very much).

I used to be afraid to look completely real
the sun was just my friend sometimes
when brown from sea and sky made things all right—
always afraid to be anything but young
and envying beauty
                  even on the face of strangers.

Is this what growing up means
the reality of lighting over public mirrors?
Or is my confidence in love so great
that I worry not
to let you see me at my worst?