In my eyes,
the four thousand dollars worth of makeup
you smear across your face every morning
doesn’t do you any good.
There’s an hour that you’ll never get back,
spent every day trying to cover up
what I see as already beautiful.
I wish, for once, you would accept
that your plainly beautiful,
that sometimes the cosmetics make you look worse.
I didn’t fall in love with the makeup,
I fell in love with the face buried beneath it,
and the woman to whom that face belongs.
Your lips don’t need to be ruby red every day
to receive attention from mine,
and your cheeks don’t need to match the rest of you;
they appeal to me more with that rosy pink tinge in them.
Please, Dear, put away the mascara and eyeliner,
and all that other worthless surface beauty;
none of it is necessary.
If others can’t accept your real beauty,
then their opinions are as worthless as
all of that crap you believe you need to look beautiful.
But in my eyes, you’re beautiful the way you are.
And that’s all that should really matter.
#261 01-31-08
