Beholder of my Beauty

Am I pretty for the structure of my face or the ability I have to change it?

I've always been skilled at changing my skin
Blush, contour, highlight

Playing up my eyes
Shadow, liner, lashes

Redefining the shapes of my features
Brow gel, lipstick, gloss


People praise me on these things
And call me beautiful

I don't think I am

My beauty lies in my hands

My ability to hold a brush

How I apply wings to my eyelid

Rouge to my cheeks

I seem so plain and boring without it

Like my face was a paint by numbers

Destined for color

I was meant to be filled in

Not to be left blank

Because then you cannot see the full picture

It's not art


But when you looked at my bare canvas

And called me beautiful

Just as you called me beautiful with my masked face

I realized that perhaps art is more meaningful when you look at it
And see the context
The purpose
The soul behind it

It's more than a visual

You saw my naked normality and extended it to beyond what I could ever do to it

You saw it for what it was, not just its potential palette

Your ability to see beauty and love in me
Surpasses any skill I have in forcing it

They say beauty lies in the eye of the beholder

But you don't just decide my pretty

You make it happen

You bring out the best in me

The glow on my face

The gleam in my eyes

The dimples of my smile

I am beautiful because of you

Thank you.

-j.p