All those years she spent searching for perfection
Could it be hiding
Within the flowery fumes that escaped from her blush when she snapped it open?
Or was it nestled in the contours of her body
Like a little bird, cozy in a right curve in the right place?
Is it within the peal of laughter
That slips from a gleaming mouth
like a bumblebee from a rose?
Or the finally approving words of a hungry mirror?
Is it bones?
Should you coax those out with hunger
until your perfection almost pierces through your skin?
The craving for discovery poisoned her anatomy that was deeper then skin
All her life she was the seeker of perfection
Something you couldn’t find on any atlas
The explorer who never noticed that the beast she hunts for does not exist
Something that everyone sees differently
Can never be found.