Looking into the mirror
All she sees is a ghostly figure
All she can wrap around her finger
Is the fact that none other said that to her
That her skin was beautiful
She was never told that she was beautiful in her skin
She found flaws in herself that she couldn’t over look
She saw the flawlessness in those opposite her
She felt their kind was far more beautiful
That the gorgeous darkness they possess
That is what she was attracted to
That’s what she wanted
To be flawless
Not what she was
But that phrase
“Your skin is so beautiful”
How could she forget it?
How could she ignore it?
How could she not give it any thought?
He wouldn’t lie…
He spoke what he felt was true…
So could it be true?
She constantly asked herself.
Am I beautiful?
Is my skin beautiful?
Why would anyone want this skin?
These thoughts plague her
And she cant help but embrace the security of knowing
She doesn’t believe it herself
so close to believing it.
So close to accepting it
Because of all the years she heard the opposite.