A pretty moon dressed in her silk clouds –
She compliments my dark skin; we are twins
Her and I are a distance love, but ever so close
As she shines upon all of my sweet dreams.

A shinning attraction, my eyes nightly distraction;
A lonely caption – so much of her, so much of her
Glowing white of magic.

Oh, how pretty the moon is tonight.

Butterflies are beautiful.
Their painted wings attracted,
because we love them.
We love to look at them.

Spiders are hideous.
We hate their many legs.
we hate their big, creepy eyes.
So we push them.

i come home crying
tears slither down my cheeks
i am simply ugly
for my nose is too big, horribly wide and contorted
my eyes are too small, beads of obsidian on my pale face
and my chapped lips are thin like crushed scribbled paper
my forehead is too big, i could write all of this down on it if i wanted to
why must i seek validation from those who will never respect me, even in my purest form
but my purity is not good enough
society gazes upon me with it's large luminous eyes
i am sorry that my hair is not straight enough
or i am flat
and when i look in the mirror my reflection cries, its hands reaching out to me through the fractured glass
yet why must i weep
beauty is in everything,
in the smoldering fire which dimly lights my cold room, sending marmalade sparks across the floor,
in the grimey walls, grout growing in the cracks and spray paint slowly crackling off,
in the failed paintings, where the splotches of cobalt and splashed of marigold are too thick,
in the cheap foundation i slather across my face,
in the maths equations my brain cannot contemplate,
and even in me,
there is beauty

Flowers came abloom
And it was the time to present and prune
The offerings of soft gatherings
Of bouquets in banquets
In sunny sides atop river banks
Far from harm and envy
Far from any gloom.

They came and they saw
They didn’t like how they bathed in the light from afar
They hated and spewed
Words so abused
The flowers that were bloomed
Shied away from them
And were indeed doomed

But petals fell astrewn
Leaves turned brown too in the face of the crew
They plucked and picked at the flowers
Oh how they went on for hours!
Couldn’t see them bloom
Couldn’t see them happy and bright
Couldn’t get them out of their sight.

snow is pretty.
why?
because
it falls from the sky
and pause
when it lies on the ground
i get drowned
in the endless white
where the light
ceased to exist