There was something
unusually frightening
about the way she smiled.
Rare to see something so odd,
yet so beautiful.
The acne on her dark skin
didn’t hinder her beauty,
nor did the dark circles under her
earnestly hopeful eyes.
When she curved
her dark lips in a smile,
her smile lines highlighted the reason for it,
at the perfect angle.
Her eyelashes were short,
didn’t go for miles,
but they did perfectly shield her
mesmerisingly fathomless dark eyes.
Everything about her showed
what a beautiful soul she had.
Everything about her radiated
with perfect, pure poetry.
Everything about her showed
how deep her mind and soul were.
Yet she was ridiculed for her appearance.
For
not being appealing to the eyes of strangers.
For
not having a fair complexion
or a plump face with red lips
or clear and acne-free skin.
or perfectly lengthed eyelashes
or perfectly shaped eyebrows.
For not having a slender neck
or a slender body.
For
having tidbits of hair above her mouth.
She was insecure and diffident.
Little did she know,
what features she tried to hide
were the ones which made her pulchritudinous.
She condemned herself for being the reason of mockery and ridicule.
Little did she know,
the people who really mattered,
did appreciate her exquisite beauty, her aesthetic soul
and her bewitchingly intelligent mind.
The judgements of superficial
verdicts didn’t matter.
She now ascertained.
These were merely witless prattle.
She now ascertained.
She was emphatically and absolutely,
an epitome of beauty.
Amna Mannan is a writer and a poet.
Featured image credit: Pariplab Chakraborty