What,
Is beauty?
Is it the curves of your body which plagues the minds of men?
Your voice,
As beautiful as the harps stroked by the hands of Aphrodite?
Your eyes,
The size of the moon and with stories as vast as the seas?
Or the creases made by your lips when they curve as aroused to warm me like the rays of the sun?
Beauty lies in the curves of your body as does in Mount Olympus,
Smooth and riddled with my words equivalent to rose pedals,
Your voice the hands that tug at my hearts strings to make it sing,
your eyes to which I search to find peace and calm,
and your lips to which will one day curve not to smile but to part and make room for mines to rest.
What is beauty you ask? All I see in you.. Destiny.