The most beautiful thing about her
wasn't
her eyes a shade of dark blue,
her auburn hair that met her shoulders,
or even the smile that traced her lips in the darkest nights

Her beauty was in
the steady rise and fall of her chest
as her lungs breathed in and out

every second
she lived with a gentle grace
that even the lull of the analog clock
couldn't compare

At some point she became all I could relate
happiness to

and when I lost her
I mourned
through my sadness,
my confusion

I realized my world
now dark and dreary
lost its sense of beauty