And We Thought of Her as Beautiful

Her skin is sandpaper,
So we likened her untouchable.
Callousness made up her tongue and throat,
So we liken her unspeakable.

Malicious for her manicure,
Disappointment for her pedicure,
And we wondered why she had even bothered.

She replaced her sinews and calves
With gall,
And perfected her bosom with deception.

Her neck and hair, she flushed with vanity.
(And intentionally misplaced her heart)

Her tendons strung embitterment,
The bones of Iron, so that they may not break,
And her entirety perfumed with histrionic fragrance.

And we said perhaps this is too far.

So she rouged her cheeks and legs,
With naivety and shadowed her eyes with innocence.

And her lips the faintest brush of desire.

A glitter of childhood,
A foundation of youth,
And she plucked her brows with virginity.

Her mascara was charming.
Her freckles delightful.
Her teeth perfection.

(And perhaps did she curl her hair with attraction?)

So we wondered at her and called her Beauty.

And forgot the bones, the sinews,
The tendons, the liver, the neck, the
Calves, the bosom, the pelvis, the
Sandpaper

And forgot it was us who had
Deemed her untouchable.