On Sale: Beauty





You have told me that you are not beautiful, that you are overweight, that you possess no allure,


still with your head on my chest, and my fingers stroking your hair, you possess the most exquisite beauty, sensuous, desirable, and pure.




There are many women in this world, as there are men, whom society deems beautiful and handsome, the magazines and advertisements sell us an illusion, to believe that that is the norm,


yet you are my most lovely, for I love all of you, your body, mind, heart and soul, for what do they know of true love, as they remain shackled to a singular form.




I have told you that I am overweight, not presenting the most breathtaking sight, and with your head on my chest, and your fingers clasped with mine,


you have told me that I am your lovely, beyond what society projects as being captivating, the temporary gloss, the photoshopped shine.




We share a life of beauty, ablaze in the furnace of yearning hunger, inflamed in the cauldron of burning need,


we shall never allow them to sell us their plastic smiles, their superficial veneer of of commercialised beauty, on which they expect us all to slavishly feed.




We have each other, beautiful, wondrous and enveloped in true love’s blissful joy, and try as they might, they will never sell us that facade, that cellophane illusion,


their monthly “brand new skin-care revolution”,


for we are bound by the truest love that transcends their glossy untruths, and we refuse to buy into their charade, their superficial delusion.




art by banksy