you asked what would i change about myself,

my first instinct was to say,

the materialistic things.

that my snow capped peak,

punctured with pins, and set by heat,

would change into something that would flow so gracefully like the melody to a beat.

the stars littering my face,

etching into a galaxy,

would morph into glass,

so pretty and pristine; and clean.

the towns and cities living inbetween my whites,

would close into a single found world,

shut off and gorgeous with every raise of the lip. 

that i wasn't the giraffe,

or the girl with no class,

but that i looked like a model starring cover for vogue.

i wished that i had the perfect wing,

and the perfect glow.

i wished of a face not manufactured by creams,

but a face that would be in a million dreams all over the world.

but when you asked the question,

"what would you change about yourself"

i replied,

"i wished that loved myself."