Too Pretty

Wide full curvaceous,
Lips readied for lipstick, smiling, kissing,
Or a Marilyn style pucker at the cameras’ urging,
Her smile glints light so infectious;
Like Orion against the night sky.
If a man were to accompany her,
He’d need be her exact equal,
Or lure attention elsewhere,
She’s unaccustomed to sharing the limelight.
How can one walk the Earth
With perfection outwardly
And not be weary that one day
It will be stolen from her?
Withered by time, sunken,
An Italian, creamy, white leather couch
Once soft, milky, pristine, regal
Now yellowed like butter?
Shiny waves of caramel, silk hair
Rippling with goddess like force,
Like wave-lapped grains of sand,
Now eroding before us;
The shore ever further from her touch,
Cool and tranquil, the awareness
Of all that’s lost, clouds the eyes worse than age
Once a cats’ eye marble,
Her radiance clear, playful and pure,
now a solid pool of murky blue, blue with regret,
Her name was Lucienne, and her beauty
Hindered her from seeing the world’s beauty
As anything more than competition

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