Beauty is complicated.
It is hard to live with,
To be around,
If you can’t find any of your own.
Beauty can be more than just mere prettiness;
It can be sublime
Which holds a sharp inhalation of terror within its near-lethal dose of immeasurable gorgeousness.
That kind of beauty can destroy a person if they aren’t careful,
If they don’t know how to temper the terror with the awe.
Beauty can tear your insides out,
And leave you in a soundless howl
With lungs in a lockdown state that refuse to let anything in or out.
It can leave you full of your own ugly
If you can’t see past your own hooked nose
And your own heartbroke.
But if you’re open to intoxication,
You can let the beauty in to kiss its eternity into your own,
To flood you,
Make love to all of your sore parts.
You can let it grow within you,
And make your own beautiful
A completely different beautiful —
A better one… one that is real… and exists.
If you let it.
Don’t cower beneath the glare of a fake sun;
Tear your chest open,
And let the beautiful pirouette in
And make a home in all of your empty spaces,
And twirl and twirl and twirl and twirl
Until you have completely forgotten
What ugliness is.
***Alright, Toots. What’s with your obsession with beauty? What? People not find you pretty enough when you were a little girl. People call you fat or something? Grow a pair already. ***
*** Yeah well… there are days when I avoid beautiful things because they make me look at myself and see everything I am not. Then there are days when I just want to pull it all inside of me until I explode because beauty — the real kind — is worth the pain and the momentary obliteration. ***