She came to me in the middle of the night

Her face reflected in the glassy surface

Point out something beautiful, she said

And I found her flaws instead.

​

I pointed to the blemishes that dotted her skin

Marks from years spent in the sun

And the pockmarks and indentations that marred her skin

Scattered like craters on the surface of the moon

I pointed to the way her two front teeth

Curved as if to hug one another

And smiled at the deep furrows that lined her brows

Weather-beaten and weary with grief

​

With each blemsh, I found beauty

The beauty of her flaws

For without those scattered imperfections

Perfection simply becomes ordinary.