She is my beauty in a broken bowl.

Venus clothed in tattered zen.

The only woman I never should have loved -

A monument to all the might have been.

I longed to bathe and bask

In the dark downpours of her hair.

Instead my feet were cut to shreds

By the shards of her quiet "I won't care."

Her legs are longer than a dreamer's sigh.

Her stomach more taut than a beachboat's sail

In a warm-whipped wind.

Her shoulders more narrow than a rich man's mind.

Her breasts more round than a saint's first sin.

Yes, her face is a trifle long

But no trifles are her slit-sharp eyes.

Her smile puts old Mona's on the block,

Hinting at truth and youth and lies.

She thinks it is safer to know 100 men

Than it is to know just one.

Just as it is safer to light 100 candles

Than to have a single sun.

She might be the catalyst to change myself

From the life I follow to the life I lead.

Though she'd never permit herself

To find out if I succeed.

I pray to a God I'm not sure is really there:

It is the only way I have to show I care

That maybe at last she'll be at peace in her shuttered soul

And realize it doesn't matter

Who broke the broken bowl.

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Wrote this for a woman I knew a long time ago. I tried to encapsulate to the best of my ability. It isn't perfect but I am proud of it.