Why are you pulling at these hopeless desires?

I don’t want you to think me pretty,

This cloak decorating me like a Christmas tree.

Is it so difficult to understand,

that I don’t want to be attractive?

Because it would be nothing short of a lie

and truth is so sacred

and so scarce.

There is no beauty here for you,

and all the unpretty thoughts will poison any who venture too close.

Its like I have to lay down the warning

and put space between us

So that you don’t see me.

Desire to look as empty and broken

as I feel.

Why are you pushing me to deceive?

to wear this body that isn’t mine,

It’s just an accumulation of advice

and therapy,

But I still don’t want to be fixed

I want to hide from myself

and contemplate the meaning of beauty

For beauty can only exist where truth lives

In a place you cannot share.

Perhaps it’s just that you see beauty in strength

and I am entranced by frailty.

You want me to be strong and vibrant

But it’s so far from my bones,

My fragile, delicate subtlety.

It may be sick to worship paper-thin

And translucent spirits,

But sickness bears its own sombre beauty

That of certain decay.

But I can’t share this place with you

It’s a lonely kind of religion.

© PickledSparklyMoosePrincess – author


4 thoughts on “Beauty

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