I once saw a butterfly, its left wing was broken,
and it fell over and over, its legs crushed with feeling.

What is beauty?
We ask ourselves as we pile powder on our face like cement over our flawed skin.
Most attribute "beauty" as a physical trait, something you are either born with
or must qualify as to achieve happiness.
I think beauty is in the scrawled message at the corner of a Post-It note shoved in your right pocket
and in the tears welling to your eyes that have not yet fallen.
I think beauty is the hair unstraightened with wide tired eyes
and collaped words stumbling over themselves.

All we know about beauty was bottle-fed to us.
As a society, we have set aside what is and isn't beautiful.
It is unattractive to have acne, obscene to have leg hair,
and a downright sin to spend less than twenty minutes on your hair each morning.
But I've counted the zits on your crumpled forehead
and wrote in the stars the strands of your hair.
Your beauty's unbroken and awesome and perfectly celestial.

I've touched a million dizzy tulips, their heads nod off to the storm and rain.
But you held me even when I was unforgiving and broke me through the icy winds.

To me, beauty is not just what encompasses us, what we are born into;
Beauty is the yet-to-come and what you've tranformed to
after moments of fading lights and sick feelings.
Beauty is weaved into our minds, where no one can touch.
It's not in our appearance, nor in our actions.
Holding yourself high isn't cutting it for me.
Beauty is intricate thoughts, what you desire and feel.
I can't see beauty until you tell me by the dying light of noon
how much you'd love to change the world with your fingertips.

I once saw a butterfly, its left wing was broken,
but I swore it was beautiful.

your heart it calls it beacons
for someone to warm it up
is hand you a sweater made with love
from my needle pricked fingers just to turn those sad lonesome eyes in to sunsets to turn a frown into a sunshine
there will me no more
suddenly from my lonesome will come a product of care
nothing can stop the barriers that have been put up have come crashing down
the flood of love has rocked your boat and taken you by storm
this can't be it
it was just a needle *****
it has to be harder than this

Step by step,
I walk mindlessly
across the patchy lawn
muddy here
barren there
unkept, unattended.
Pleading blades of grass
with drops of hope reflect
morning’s sunlight.
They become my teachers
as they reach out
to grow.
Fresh spring spouts
extol me
to find a place
where barefoot soles
gather joy
with each flex of toe
into the ground.

Deafened with decibels from all frequencies, seemingly all at once, they hit me.  I sit, wishing, wanting, waiting for something.

Sunk heavy in the knowledge: I have been here before.

I am no longer a visitor here, novelty has been exhausted. I have been everywhere, many times before, besotted. Space-less and time-less, uncharted memories lurk beyond my territories, unfathomable and inert, they, my unspeakable stories.

Instead, I sit here, lotus poised, pushing my toy train on the looped tracks of infinity. It’s really just an 8. Or perhaps I’ve misunderstood eternity. I have seen you before. You’re really just a shadow. Or perhaps I’ve misunderstood proximity.

And now you come to me once again, I try hard to derail my train, but you won’t let me. My hand chained, my eyes strained, I traverse blindly on my own continuity.

A soft complex-
A beautiful face
Catches the eyes
But a beautiful mind captivates-
substance to adore
Millions of beautiful people are among us
Attraction is only a fraction of the equation
It's the inner workings that no other can bring which holds us

(C) Tiffanie Doro

Snap, crack, snap -- twigs break underneath
Each burst is music fed deep into her heart
Balmy air blows crisp across her cheek
A kiss as sweet as a daughter's caress
Pride inhaled with each labored breath
Seventeen miles of inclines and slopes
Over fallen trees and swollen creeks
Intentional steps, stitches of success sewn into
the blanket of her soul as she
wanders along the path of her
journey to renewal