poem

I see beauty as shiny. Sparkly. Without flaw. Brand new. Certain colors trump others. My eyes know. They’ve been trained to look past so much to find what is beautiful. To reach for the perfect. To desire fresh. If I won’t grab the damaged cereal box on a shelf, how will my heart embrace the broken life? It’s humbling, really. That you would choose me, when I won’t choose others. It’s because you see different. Your eyes find beauty everywhere. Because your lens is love. In the lost. In all colors. In the hooded. In the damaged. In the hurting. […]