When Beauty Is Lost.

She thinks there is no way to obtain it.

Beauty that is.
She glances at the facade presented to her.
Who is this and where did they come from?
Kinky hair. An ample nose. Plump lips.
Breasts that peak out from above and beyond.
And curves like a country back road.
According to the man, that’s not beautiful.
That’s just negro features.
She smacks herself and turns to the reflection.
Nothing has disappeared.
The despicable duplicate still in sight.
Her backside sliding down the cold wall until it hits the tile.
Cut. Cut. Slice.
Until all hate has emptied her veins.
The beauty trying to escape but it is too late.
She’s gone.
And all along it was there.
Beauty that is.