With gracefully arched eyebrows and artfully designed lashes .
With a sense of peace and calm treading gingerly beneath her footsteps.
With a demeanor easily passable for normal , you wouldn’t waste a second contemplating that she may be else wise ,
No you wouldn’t ,
Not until you look at her eyes ,
Not until you see what lived within them,
Not until it was too late ,
And you shared the same demons .

With gracefully arched eyebrows and artfully designed lashes .
With a sense of peace and calm treading gingerly beneath her footsteps.
With a demeanor easily passable for normal , you wouldn’t waste a second contemplating that she may be else wise ,
No you wouldn’t ,
Not until you look at her eyes ,
Not until you see what lived within them,
Not until it was too late ,
And you shared the same demons .

I look at you while you complain about the lightness of your lashes ,
I look at you while you fret over the length of your nose,
I look at you while you worry about the stutter of your speech ,

But, all I see is the golden feathers that shield eyes that engulf me with grace .
All I see is , how each glance at you redefines what I call beautiful.
All I see is the imperfect wonder of the soul that lives within your words .

Gazing upon the pristine white,
Breathing in the silver of death,
The seeping blood through the skin of thread,
The burden of unspoken memories buried beneath ,
The bleeding wound a mere scratch on my incandescent soul ,
                                  My incandescent soul
gingerly fading of its exuberance
A canvas of delicacy , color and beauty now ... replicating the death of a rose
The grace of her being , drenched of it’s allure as the axiom is made clear ,
My wandering mind witnesses the dawn of realization and with it comes the veracity that it isn’t war that broke me , it was love

Beyond the angles , the curves , the edges

You may glimpse,                                       the world you buried .

You may glimpse ,
the voices you silenced .

You may glimpse ,
the heartache you designed .

As you swim in your world of hyperbole
She drowns in the ocean of pain you put there .
As you whine that your face ain’t perfection,
His eyes cry rivers  , as streams of their blood stain the remnants of his shirt.
As you forge a career for pride and vengeance,
They see the world that they once loved be reduced to ashes , to dust .

He is beautiful , while sleep has claimed his being , yet you see the light , the kindness ,  illuminate through the mere fluttering of lashes.

He is beautiful, while his words burn with passion , with determination that gives life to the thousands of actions we are yet to see , yet to know .

The curve of lips  , The smoothness of muscle , the charm of words should be transcended to see the soul that questions everything.

Is he still beautiful as you explore the  depths that were shadowed with cracks so intricate that it left your lips dry , made your heart ache?

Is he still beautiful as your  touch unearths the untrodden valleys that seize your voice , capture  your  unspoken words  , leaving you inarticulate, ambiguous?

Is he beautiful as you transcend what you can see , as you hear the secret whispers that dominate the  depths of his heart , the whispers that obliterate your notion of allure , of beauty ?

Is he still beautiful ?