Curbside Beauty

Poem about a woman that no longer sees the beauty that everyone else sees, inside and out.

While she lies there on the bedroom floor

She looks over to the white wall

What a pretty sight it is

So simple

No complications

If her life we parallel to these walls

It would all make sense

She eventually gets up

She walks over to the mirror

What does she see?

Nothing

Story of her life

Only thing present is the outline of a murder scene

Beauty

She never saw it

When she’s present in the public eye

She sees the same outlines

Through a wave of fast glances, smiles, and whispers,

She keeps walking

A never ending walk

It’s not a lost cause

For she has loved

And felt heartbreak

Now she pushes it all away

Her happiness is her own

Whoever wanted to share that happiness was welcome

Nobody got the memo

She’ll keep walking down a path of empty souls

Until something clicks

Words have no meaning

You’re drop dead gorgeous

You’re an angel sent from above

Words with good intent

Faded away long ago

She’s now comfortable with the numbness

Suddenly she leans forward

Like a disease has taken over

Everything starts to flow naturally

She’s found her serenity

Once again she looks in the mirror

At there it is

A faint sight

That beauty everyone speaks of

Eventually she’ll see the complete reflection

Now she stands outside her balcony

Hands folded on the rail

Head rested

She stares down at the grey curb

What a pretty sight it is

So simple

No complications

Author's Note

Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Reviews

[Valentine]

If she is going to kill herself...where does the murder scene come in? Valentine I like the depth of your word usage,

[Jennesis]

I was thinking it takes a while to see your own beauty, feeling hopeful, then the last line threw me back. How sad that the curb is calling to the narrator. But nothing is ever really simple.

Nice job

[Voiceless]

Hello there. Yes, I agree that last line usually throws people off. I think that just plays into the constant struggle. There's always bits and pieces but never the full picture. To those that can overcome that, more power to them.

Thank you for your comment.

[Jennesis]

Exactly. Even in the peaceful moments, like hands on the rail, the struggle is there. It was a beautifully placed.