Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Beauty Filter

Once upon a time,
more years ago than I care to count,
I met her in the bathroom, and she looked good enough to eat.
It was way past dinner,
moments before breakfast,
and I was fast falling in love.

We shared smiles and stares,
her skin, like silk to my spellbound hands,
her eyes, ethereal, earthy marbles,
her face, like nothing I’d ever seen,
and something I’d never forget.

I was in love with her for the longest time,
but now,
here I am,
collapsed on cream carpet,
my heartbreak narrated by Dinah Shore,
laughing on the outside, crying on the inside,
because I want, so desperately to adore her,
to love her, just as I used to,
but an app told me that her face was fixable,
and now,
I can’t get the new face out of my mind.

The eyes, soulless and without sparkle,
the nose, the skin, belonging to somebody else,
so easily.
She was stolen so easily,
our love was stolen so easily,
and I can’t deny that she was beautiful,
I don’t know who she was,
and I don’t want to love her.

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