I Think You Are Beautiful

When you get back from town and your hankie is dyed from your failed attempts to save your make up,
Don’t worry,
Because I still think you’re beautiful.

It doesn’t matter whether you’ve been crying,
Leaving tracks of mascara like the cheetah’s tear marks,
I still think you’re beautiful.

When your hair is disheveled and cracking up,
Having its own mind and dancing away from your comb,
I still think you’re beautiful.

Little matter that a pimple showed up,
Right over your dimple,
Angry and seething
Threatening to ruin your day,
I still think you’re beautiful.

Best of all,
When you wake up on the wrong side of your bed,
And hate the world,
Because your braids have come undone,
I would still think you’re beautiful,

You radiate it from within
And the ornate masks and pockmarks do little to hide it,
Only to enhance it.
Despite the little vanities you’re prone to,
They burn away with a little touch of your fire.
So keep on being you,
For no matter what scars you may wear as trinkets,
This man will always think you beautiful.
© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

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