"On Beauty"

Diamond Sharp

Krista is the most
beautiful woman I know.
On living room floor,
we sit sparled beneath
her collages between
scissors and paint.
She tells me her
childhood mirrored mine.
The avoidance of mirrors
because we weren't capable
of accepting the image looking back.
It has taken me a decade
and a half to entertain
the thought that my lanky frame
might be beautiful.

I tell her
I don't think I'll ever marry.
Finding a man who
will love me past
my insecurities and faults
seems the equivalent
to asking for heaven.
She laughs,
and tells me
my beauty transcends nations.
Keeping the lovers away
will be my biggest problem.
I look at myself.

Lately, a boy has
been looking my way.
In his presence,
I find myself looking down.
He will have a hard time loving me
if I can't even do it myself.
So I will save him the trouble.
Sabotage my beauty.
Make it easier for him
to find another girl
who loves herself unconditionally,
because I'm not sure
if I can do that yet.