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True Beauty of a Beauty
On a hot day of July,
I trudged through the hazardous city,
Down crowded sidewalks and loud obnoxious streets
Avoiding bustling people and broken glass.
People complained, children cried, car horns blared as they flew by,
My senses were overwhelmed by the pandemonium
I found no good here, no light to shine through the mucked air
But, somehow, in the chaos of industrial terror,
I caught a glimpse, just a sight,
Of a celestial being walking among us.
Such grace she had
In her white tee-shirt and
Skin tight blue jeans;
A woman that men whistled at all day long
Just to humiliate and alienate,
Because she looked stereotypically sexy.
They ignored all but her lustful appearance
(Large breasts and perfect butt).
They missed her country bare feet
That had most likely ran through soft green meadows on country hills,
Now attacked by the dirty, broken glass streets.
Most people ignored her peaceful, light, brown hair,
That she had so tirelessly worked on that morning.
No one saw the glowing green eyes
She shared with her aged mother.
Not a single man cared for her delicate hands
That had seen hard work long ago,
Then revived by years of lotion, to fit in the media demented world.
Every person would forget immediately her vanilla scent,
An aroma I had loved sense I was a young boy with a scented candle crazed mother.
Did anyone notice her perfect smile that lit up the world in dark times?
But I saw
These features and I wish that I could freeze frame,
Pause the world that very instant…
I took in her features, just a moment, before I walked up to her.
I touched her silky skin that felt like tightly woven threads of spider webs,
(A web in which every man would befall without remorse or regret
Thinking the spider would no doubt kill them with kisses and sex.)
I ignored this and tapped the skin, revealing a shell of porcelain features,
A shell blocking the world from her inner beauty.
I wanted to see more and broke the casing,
Watched as media pressure and modeled perfection crumbled to the ground.
There stood a woman of muscle, bone, real skin, the real woman.
I ob served the real woman from toe to head,
Trying to see the outer beauty everyone else saw.
She had delicate hands, pampered by professionals.
Her slim legs that curved to her large tone thighs
Led behind by her, as many men would say, perfect round ***.
(Exactly what they saw her as, a piece of ***)
Her flat belly that led to a mans favorite part,
That most men, because they were too weak to get piggish thoughts from their minds,
Forgot actually covered her beautiful heart.
Continuing I noticed
Her petite neck that led to her perfect country face
With luscious lips and a perfect little nose.
She also had small ears that hid behind her flowing hair and
Those emerald eyes, still gleaming with a reflection of her soul.
She was a wonder of beauty,
An idol of lust,
So, what else?
Could there be no more to this woman,
A beauty of the gods
Aphrodite of Earth.
Is there anything deeper still?
I wasn’t there for all that,
I was not concerned with gazing at this marvel of the universe.
I wanted a deeper level, into her mind
Passed the perfectly conditioned hair and constant unnecessary insecurities.
Advanced Calculus and Biochemistry,
Fluent Japanese, a sense of humor.
Bet no one saw that; bet no man ever tried.
College girl on a full scholarship? Above 4.0 GPA?
A scientist in the making?
While you saw a sex goddess, she saw a goddess of knowledge.
Was that part of your fantasies with her?
Did you envision her doing homework before coming to bed?
Was there any place in your mind for an intelligent woman that could hold a conversation,
Or change the world?!
A woman with a dream of a future, tied up in your dream of sex?
I don’t think so;
So as time unfreezes and her flawless shell of worries returns
Before you whistle,
Before your fantasies start,
Before you dehumanize her for her beauty.
Think about what is beneath that outer shell,
Deep into her consciousness and soul,
Right down to the core where you can find
The true beauty of a beauty.