He was beautiful,
his eyes did not shine in the light,
his hair did not fall perfectly on his head,
his head did not fit the rest of his body,
his body did not fit the mold of perfection,
his I.V.’s pumped weakness into his soul.
No, he was not beautiful in the eyes of society,
but to me, he was beautiful.
It was because of the way everyone smiled when he walked in the room,
it was because of the way he cared about others more than himself,
it was because of the way he fought when doctors said there was no hope,
it was the way he was more mature than a college student.
It was the way he accepted death.
It was the way that when it was time for him to leave the earth, he left it with a big mark of love.
He was beautiful.