I don't know beauty

I don't know beauty.

I have never seen it with my eyes.

Never has it fluttered by me,

like a spring butterfly.

Nor has it poured down my window

on a cold damp night

as I lay on warm clouds in flight.

Beauty has never whispered into my ears;

a silent desert, all these years.

It has never been a breeze and

fluttered my hair.

There has been no breeze,

no beauty, no air.

Beauty was never a beach for me.

It never crashed like waves

nor dissappeared with the tide.

It has been to me the dark side of the moon,

unknown, neverseen, a thing desired.

Beauty has been no

friend of mine.

- Pulkeet Mehra