Those clear lines, the divide between
What is there and what cannot
Be seen. You admire her
Beauty, call her magnificent, a
Goddess of thw human race a figure
That gives all women a pretty
Face to live up to.
You cannot however, see the
Darkness and doom that linger in
Her presence. Those eyes that reflect
Happiness hide hurt and bitter
A snapshot is nothing more than
A still, where all that can be seen
Is what appears to be. But don’t
You know, there is so much more
To you and me.