Beautiful is in the curves,

the lines, that spell my name,

On a good day.

 

Is in the corners of the lips that

fall, even though they know

not to speak all.

 

Is in the eyes that face the

sun, and cameras’ flash,

Without flinching, without

blinking out the resilience

that allows for bravity.

 

Beauty is in aknowledging

the ugly.

In knowing that even that

can not define me.

In loving , Only

for the sake of love.

 

Beauty is in the puffy eyed

deep exhale of breath that

states, that the cry is over.

 

Beauty is the island of

space, in which I find

my peace of mind.

Stagger my pace.

And find the grace,

To pose,

Expose myself, as an existant entity.

A victorious refrain from lifes general vulnerabilities.

 

Because it’s only for moments

that we can break from this

race.

 

Beautiful is framed honestly.

Even when I don’t know it,

Beautiful is me.