So many definitions for the word beautiful. For some it’s inside and for some it’s outside. But she, she was beautiful. How she managed to get the boy and managed to get his heart.

No body ever turned and looked at us. No one searched for the girl with the broken smile, they all searched for the girl with the vivid eyes that shows no fear over reality.

And his heart, his broken soft desperate heart, did not realize that I was like him, lonesome and hurt.

She played with his feelings and drank his teardrops that to her guilt tasted so pleasant. But to me his teardrops felt like poison, because I knew I could dry them but he never allowed me to.

When he was with her he seemed happy and that shot me so I tried cover the bullet holes with Band-Aids hoping it would work. They stopped the bleeding but… they prevented healing.

She was his universe so I tried being his sun so I could some how shine light on him, but the sun is just one in a million star.

But she was his muse and I was just an ordinary Jane that walked by. She was his canvas and he would slowly paint her with the blood of his flesh. The better she got painted, the quicker he would die.

So I attempted to rescue him from drowning in her ocean, when I touched his hand I felt his warmth. I realized that he did not feel the same back. He was fond with the depth of her waves not wanting my help. Not wanting my love.

On my arms the words “broken heart” were written, so with make up I blocked the marks of being hurt.

And once again there I sat thinking to myself “No one will ever like me!”

So I cried my feelings and filled a cup with my tears hoping she would drink it and become like me. But no, that made her more radiant. My tears polished her skin making her shine more than ever before.

Every day her guilt became thirsty for hurting everything I had.

Have you seen Cinderella? That was I… except no prince ever placed a glass slipper on me, because before it was placed she shattered it, breaking every kiss I could have gotten.

So many definitions for the word beautiful, but I was never one.

 

• by Dixie Ticonderoga