Would you believe me,
If I sang of how the sun rises
From your arched brows,
How your buttocks look
Like twin moons,
How the part of you through which you breath
Is aquiline and cute,
How your eyes sparkle like jewels,
How your ears ooze perfection,
How your skin is smooth
How your form is lithe
And your movements amble?
Will you accuse my lenses of being rose coloured?
Would you believe what I say?
Or are you so damaged inside that all you see is an ugliness that you aren’t?
Woe unto those who twist my beloved’s sight!
Woe unto the media, the people and that very dark side of you!
Image credit: Emma Keyes