Posts tagged with "women"

Believing In Her Beauty

The torso of my beautiful muse

I tell her she’s beau­ti­ful. Over and over again. As often as I can.

But she shakes her head, and says I only think so because I love her.

The front of my beautiful muse

It’s true. But would I love her any less if she did­n’t have those soft, inno­cent eyes? If she did­n’t wear her hair up, or down, or curly, or straight, or dif­fer­ent every time I saw her? If her body did­n’t curve so dis­tract­ing­ly when she lets her­self fall into me?

The body of my beautiful muse

It makes me won­der if any­one sees the same thing that I do.

How much of it is her beau­ty, and how much of it is the beau­ty I see in her?

To me, her beau­ty is obvi­ous, not sub­tle in any way.

The legs of my beautiful muse

So I tell her, over and over again.

Sometimes I think she’ll start to believe me if I say it enough.

Bridgehead

We met on the bus, side-by-side, read­ing books that both won Nobel Prizes.

I was sup­posed to meet you here three years ago, and they’re out of apple cider. The cran­ber­ry cider is tart, but only too much when you sip it so. There’s a sub­tly dis­tinct taste to it, bare­ly enough to stop me from won­der­ing if I just paid $2.45 for warm cran­ber­ry juice. I did­n’t even want this drink; I just want­ed to sit down and write.

I nev­er would have come here if you had­n’t sug­gest­ed it. There are too many peo­ple. Too many going for the fresh­ly-ground­ed, shade-grown, fair trade bull­shit that’s been mar­ket­ed to the hip­sters who think they’re doing the world a favour by patron­iz­ing the right kind of places. Pretentious peo­ple who come here to read, then put their head­phones on because it’s too noisy.

I don’t fit in. That’s prob­a­bly a good thing.

I was sup­posed to meet you here three years ago, but your boyfriend got jeal­ous and would­n’t let you come.

We met on the bus, and I haven’t seen you since.