No one told me that beauty would make me cry
or that disappointment might make me smile.
that love was full of hatred,
and hatred can be fuelled by love.
That a smile makes the world go around,
but so does fear, and anger, and isolation.
That words, words spoken with a breaking heart
and a tear in the eye can be more beautiful
than the worlds most lauded sonnet.
No one said that beauty could pick you up,
smack you in the chest,
and drop you back on the floor.
Beauty is not skin deep.
Nothing is skin deep in a world of energy and thought and ideas and creativity.
Men have told me for years that I am beautiful. But as much as these words are appreciated by the ears,
most of the time, they speak only of what genetics have passed to me.
They speak not of the heart that resides within me,
that drips with the all-encompassing love and hate for this world.
Goosebumps prickle my skin, sliding up my back
and across my shoulders to embrace my heart as it struggles with how much beauty there is in this world.
You are part of all that is what is beautiful
and all that is beautiful is you xx