Member-only story
Beauty Complex
A Poem
“oh, what a pretty face” —
that was always the refrain
as if it didn’t matter that she had
kindness and gentleness on her side.
it was even worse
when the men chimed in —
as they often did —
to say she’d make a lovely bride.
should that be the kind of talk
a young girl should hear
right on the cusp of womanhood
at barely the age of thirteen?
but sprouts grow into flowers
and so did she, in time —
till she was the prime bloom
to be gazed upon in every room.
the other girls talked —
of course they would —
and hid their whispers
behind tight smiles.
it started with one empty seat
at their usual lunch table
until one day she sat alone
while all her old friends laughed.
who knew it could be so lonely
to be deemed lovely and beauiful
in a world that seemed to thrive
from every picture-ready face?
