beginner, Poetry

The Lover and the Beauty


That she flaunted around

Laid not in her face,

Or body

Or anything she learnt from a

poster picture.

It laid

Inside the very core of

Her own self.

Her being,

Was much more than steller grades

And 206 bones.

The red lips

Never created love,

The love

Arrived, searching for

A kind heart,

An ocean for eyes

And a treasure of

Deeply hidden stories

In the mouth of a girl

Who spoke hours of silence

To people who wanted

nothing more.

The lover and the beauty 

Never met

For the fate

Had been written

And the knots had been


And there’s laid, not

In this life.