Venus' Version of Mars Beauty

Your body is beautiful,

in my eyes,

if your soul holds beauty.

I can see the things you dislike,

Dad belly protruding,

Love handles.

Weird hairy toes,

the scar left behind on that,

otherwise, perfect buttocks.

I know you are too short,

the world told you that,

or you are too tall

awkward limbed spindly.

Knees that buckle,

Arms that sag now.

You don't look like Mr. Darcy,

Standing wet shirt in the lake.

I want Darcy in spirit--

Not actually a Colin Firth Replica.

I wish you never felt anything,

but beautiful.

Some dumb girl pointed this out to you,

Give me the chance to show you,

Every single body is beautiful,

Especially yours.

I'm not the girl who said no,

to the movie date because you were too ugly.

I probably would have said yes --just for the popcorn.

I'm not the woman who said,

"If only his body matched his personality."

I'm not the woman who wanted

Hot, Taut, Stud-Muffin.

I usually found that guy incredibly boring.

I've never wanted superficial,

And have only been hurt by men,

Who looked at me superficially.

I'm much more excited by:

A sharp mind,

A clever wit,

A spark of curiosity.

Let me drop my dress by my ankles,

What you'll see:

Stretch marks tracking silvering veins on Venus Willendorf,

Freddie Krueger foot scar next to painted toes,

Lopsided cross-eyed breasts,

They won't look you in the eyes,

Unless you love them,

Ask them, they'll shyly tell you.

I love my body. When my body is loved.

Give me the chance to love you the same.

I refuse to look at a man with the cruelty,

He'd look at himself.

I refuse to look at a beautiful soul,

and be disappointed at its naked vulnerability.

The inadequacies played out all over our skin,

Aren't the wrinkles around the eyes lovely?

For they were brought about of years,

Of laughter and tears,

Aren't the marks on the skin,

a beautiful reminder of a thousand,

blessed beach days.

Go ahead tell me-- oh, but those eyes...

I can tell you those eyes,

Even though they've gained me,

Consistent compliments,

So blue,

So gray,

So beautiful,

Also have come with critique:

So squinty,

So webbed,

Almost non-existent.

But darling, these eyes,

Boys said made me lack peripheral vision,

The most beautiful thing about those eyes,

is not their "exotic almond" shape,

has nothing to do with their blue-gray color,

It is not at all about the way they light up my face.

My eyes are artist's eyes,

They look at the world differently,

They look at your old, wrinkling, balding, graying imperfection,

With the fascination of a young lover.

They aren't blind, but they are kind.

These greedy eyes,

Want only to see intelligence,

Crave only the raised eyebrow,

Of a mind who can't hide his appreciation,

If you let them,

they'll drink of your beauty,

until you, too, get drunk on your beauty

On our shared beauty.

This body, she makes no demands.

She seeks only the wise strength of love,

The comfort of kisses, the expectation of romance.

She can not be bought with empty glances or trinkets.

She seeks a soul as beautiful as her own,

She seeks a body,

Which encompasses the soul of a man,

Who takes the time to know her soul.

Who fullfills her spirit,

Who accepts her,

The way she is.

Who appreciates,

The whole complicated Venus.

Let her teach you,

You are beautiful,

The whole complicated you.

We could be beautiful-- if only your heart could trust mine.