I am enamored by the beauty in the world. I freeze at the sight of orange skies that bleed through the blue normality and by the people I face. Women in skin they complain about shine through and grab me; I freeze. I find beauty in eyes. It's the most beautiful organ of the body, I think. I peel through foreheads and knock at the skull. I try to figure out everyone's worst enemies-it turns out to be themselves.
I remain shocked at insecurities. The sky hates its orange hue. It believes its a sentimental layer of pity. Some women and some men itch at the thought of the word beautiful coming near them. And why wouldn't they? The word itself, its meaning and all it comes with it is demeaning and lonely. It pressures them into thinking they must attain some kind of normality. Some kind of common characteristic shared by all of humankind, by the sky on the normal days. But I find beauty in abnormality. I think she or he who looks like no other she or he is, in itself, beauty. I find different to be beautiful.
I always wonder when self love might come knocking on my door. But I'd wish it for the sky and for the world before I ever wished it for me. I find comfort in those who carry themselves with some kind of beautiful they feel for their insides. It radiates through the outside. And on nights where the orange and pink sky has dressed the blue up, I wonder why we won't learn for a little difference. Why we don't stare at the uneven hues taking over their blue master. Why we don't accept our differences and dress them as they should be dressed, with warm hands of care and love.
When I was young and I was feeling sick, my mom or dad would mix hot milk and honey together and give it to me. It healed me through and through. Warm milk and honey was a self caring mask I needed. And even if it didn't heal the flu or a cold, it healed something else. I wish I could pour milk and honey over the sky and over all the people. I wish they'd feel the mask of healing and believe in the words "it will all be alright."
These are 2am thoughts unevenly crafted. They are how I feel when I stare humanity in the face. I am in awe of the sky and the beauty of each individual person. I will be alright.
I like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me.
© 2019 Silvia Iorio. All rights reserved.