The Measure of Beauty

This is the measure of a love,

So discerning.

So vile.

This man who comes along,

He believes he knows who, what I am.

From my supposed beauty.

My fairness.

Tell me man,

is it my woman that makes me fair?

My beauty that makes me so very meek?

Do I need to be taken care of?

Years pass,

youth has long gone.

This man who comes along.

He no longer sees me.

Am I not beautiful?

Do you not want to care for me?

The measure of beauty,

not my looks, but my age?

My maturity?

I see this man who comes along.

He sees me.

The look of lust, want is no longer there.

Where is my measure of beauty.

Reviews

[Tristan Noir]

your measure of beauty is as long as my c**k

[Coyote Poetry]

Beauty is in the yes of the beholder. Beauty is hidden till the person allow you in and then you can see true beauty. Outside appearance and lust become less with time. A good heart and happy soul is what we want to be around when we are old and gray. A excellent poem. Make me think.
Coyote,

[deeps]

This is a wonderful write here. I enjoyed this.
Very well written.

[alan khan]

jesus christ. first stanza alone had me hooked. such power behind all of this. you're gonna learn quick i suck at reviewing. but i really really enjoyed this. great work.