Skin
Silky smooth
Like satin bed sheets
Creamy and peach
Like FAGE yogurt
Undisturbed and unwrinkled
Like a pool of endless youth

Hair
Perfectly sculpted to curl and swerve
Like writing on the surface of an ice rink
Colored an array of various toffee browns
Like the fanciful coffees of foreign cities
Softened and voluminous
To fill every corner of a room like sea foam

Eyes
So young and bright
Like that of a newborn child
Blue and unbelievably light
Like staring into the tinted mirrors of a palace
Rounded and flocked by milky lashes
Like fluttering wings on a swan

How am I to fall
In love
With someone so utterly perfect
And so utterly different
Compared to me?

Her face is a sour
Washed out ugly gray
Similar to that of dishwater
With greenish clumps
That closely resemble
Floating milk clods in the
Center of her face
For eyes

Her hair is a worn out
Expanse of stringed greasy mess
As if she'd dunked it into a fry cook's sink
And left it to sit
With the occasional underscore
Of a darker, muddy brown
Streaks of feces throughout her head
For highlights

Her body is such a frail
Structure of porous bones and blood
A once pure white is soiled with
Brownish blood red speckles and smears
Like the horrid remains of a wolf’s meal
She can’t even hold herself up and she
Shudders and shakes constantly like some
Sort of like a hypothermic deadbeat

She’s so undeniably ugly and
Disgusting feeble and poor
But how would you feel if I
A relatively sane, accepted member of society
Was able to see something in this horrid girl that I loved?
You’d never accept it and you’d no longer recognize me
For finding love the wasn’t perfectly suited to your ideals
My love has to be pretty

I think I’m going to
Slow down for awhile
I need to embrace that
I may be mentally mature
But I’m still just a kid
A kid with an unbelievably and
Obnoxiously mature mindset
But a kid nonetheless

So I think I’m going to
Slow down for awhile
God knows that I really
Don’t need to be worrying
About the dramatics
Of the adult lifestyle
And I need to enjoy that fact
While it’s still true

They are not in love
Her sea green gazes
Are not filled with
Love or compassion
They are filled by
Dissatisfaction and
Distaste at what she
Has allowed herself
To settle for and with

They are not in love
His watery blue glances
Are not filled with
Love or compassion
They are filled by
Desperation and
The admiration of a
Mere man child
Unaware of what he has

They are not in love
My darkened ocean stares
They are filled by
Love and compassion
They are filled by
Utter devotion and
Sheer romanticized love
I could give her and it'd
Be worth so much more than his.

They are not in love
The media’s pale gray glares
Are not filled with
Love and compassion
They are filled with
Greed and rejection
Of what is not fitting
In the perfectly styled
Heterosexual world

They are not in love
I would like to proclaim
With hell to the media
And his watery blue glances
I could fill her with
Far more love and compassion
Than he or the media
Ever cared to give to her

Ha!
Laugh at me
Throw trash at me
Strip me down
Expose me; please

Rip away my crusted exterior
To see what’s really inside
It’s putrid I’m sure
It’s foul and nasty
It’s just the disgusting trash
You anticipated it’d be
It couldn’t be anything more
Right?

With your manicured nails
And photo shopped perfection
You could never be wrong
In seeing what I
In my raw essence
Could be
I could never be anything worthy

But tell me please
What you
In all your perfection
Would do
If it turned out that I were
Pretty?