They think beauty is a box of candy, velvet ribbons, satin gowns,
They think beauty is a bombshell,
They think beauty never frowns.
Would you love my broken places?
Would you forgive who I have been?
Would you stay when I look ugly,
Understand my sins?
Curled up on the bathroom floor,
Begging for breath,
Crawling to the room the next door,
Would you have loved me then?
Drunk and disorderly,
Ragged and worn,
Battered and bruised,
Tattered and torn,
I’m not now,
Was once,
I don’t deny it.
I’m not shiny new,
As when twenty-two.
As is at forty-one.
I’ve got wrinkles
from the lines,
Scars you cannot see,
Is this beauty?
And maybe,
I don’t look at things,
The same way anymore,
Maybe I’m not as sure
As I used to be,
When I see a man in front of me,
And maybe
I don’t care the way I should.
I could.
They think beauty is the flowered vine,
And sweet red wine,
Golden set diamond rings
They think beauty sings
Happy songs
All day long.
I think beauty looks at me,
In revelry,
And subtlety
And sees the way I really am,
The knotted wood,
Still good.
Somehow stronger
For the hunger,
Than when I was younger,
Able to look you in the eye,
With every sigh,
And mean it.
copyright 2009, Gold Mine

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