Pretty Looks Like


what spring is supposed to be
pastel patterns lining tablecloths and clear skin and a dress
that opens into a parachute when you twirl around in the grass
no shoes on your feet and your toes between the blades
the way collarbones are defined in curved lines
boats and bridges crossing the horizon of your shoulders
earrings that hang like chandeliers with gems twinkling
Shifting at angles in reflection with the dimly lit room
into which you glide three feet taller and they can't look away
when snow first falls onto a soft ground without melting
a perfect white, crystalline and pure
and when a boot is first pressed an identical match is made
evidence that a young girl had her first kiss
from the two pairs of prints facing one another, tips almost touching
one with a deeper indent in the toes
it's a shadow of a moment, a mirage of true love
in the morning when the sun rises
and the world turns a bright yellow washed over with orange
and you turn your face towards it with eyes closed
butterfly wings lying upon rosy cheeks
and lips placed ever so slightly into a smile
pressing pause in a moment when eyes are meeting for the first time
a fleeting flash of recognition, continuing into a sureness
only infinite because of the natural beauty being held in between
the way i felt when he told me the stars reminded him of my eyes

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