The silver in your hair and the subtle of the lines from your eyes,
That is beauty to me.
The way you tuck your hair behind your ears and laugh like a giraffe,
That is what he sees.
The agility and love of pottery and coral in your cheeks,
Would break a bitter breakers heart
Before it weakened knees,
I’m a girl that flirts with makeup,
Only the right shades will do,
I like to pick out tones that make
His colors more than few,
He gave me river water to see,
A gilded crown in braids,
And skin that’s light and dark in the sun,
That burns just like a rose.
I shouldn’t play with thorns (I know),
They’ll get stuck in princess hands,
But I’d so much rather me than you,
If that is what he has planned.
I like the bronzy brilliant glow,
I like your hair as it is,
I like knowing your lipstick comes,
In an eggplant color like his,
I like the almond edges and the delicate folds of your eyes,
I think it’s stupid that they ever told you otherwise,
Please, the surgery is a disguise.
I like it that you’re bigger than
Cosmo said you ought to be.
I think Cosmo is a fucking joke,
Otherwise it would be free.
I like your style and you like mine,
Sisters know what looks just right,
I like the fact that you show up in sweatpants,
Way to fight the way good fight.
I like the red colors and blues that you like to die your hair,
I’m glad that mine came pre-hued,
You do what you dare.
I like the freckles, dimples, and scars,
I like the ones that are big,
I like the wrinkles because they’re yours,
I like how when I see crows feet I know
That they were earned often; you will forgive.
I like the classy eyebrows that
Are apparently too “overgrown”,
I think that if you waxed them down,
We’d see right to the bone.
I don’t enjoy the fear or doubt,
It stains your beautiful face.
There is so much joy that could be there,
Screw the damask, screw the lace.
Pinterest never suited me all that much,
I see prettier things by sight.
I’d rather not pose or share,
What you wear long through the Night.
I want to talk about your smile, your laugh!
I want to talk about your face!
You can call it stupid, but please God, don’t,
This is not a god damn race.
If I dress myself like a princess,
Maybe then it will glow to share,
There are younger girls than me that look up,
And see more than my hair.
They see more than just beauty,
I will dress like Jasmine for them,
They don’t yet know that the things they see,
Are either “butch” or “femme”,
We all want to be princesses,
He chose us either way,
And at the end, when I look at you,
That’s all I wanted to say.