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No Beauty

"There's no beauty in bleeding lips," you'd whisper to me. Your teal eyes would dance with your words, lighting up from under your thick-rimmed glasses. You would push back my dirty blond hair, right behind my ear, murmuring hollow compliments, said with such gentle precision that I would always fall for them. Then you’d place your lips on mine, and I would forget everything.

You forgot everything too when you kissed. You forgot I was your boyfriend. You forgot you loved me. And you remembered you liked girls. That must have been how you ended up with that slut ‘Bethany’, or ‘Mary-Anne’, or ‘Rosemary’, or whatever the newest one’s name was.

I trace my finger along my arm. The touch makes me shiver at the memory of how your own fingers would sigh upon my wrist, making the hairs prick up. That small touch was so much more intimate than anything you ever could have thought of to do… maybe that’s what I fell for. I never fell for you, for your looks (beautiful as they were). No. I fell for your words and carefully uttered poetry, for your hands, for the special way your eyes saw me.

I glance back as the letters curl across my vision, slowly spelling your name. They blaze out in crimson across the pale skin you teased me for.

There’s no beauty in bleeding lips. But there’s everything in falling stars. (by arrhythmicXO)
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Upload Date: 31/12/1969

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