...Less Than Perfect...

It was difficult to convey 

just how he envisioned her face.

A matter of the correct 

visual metaphor surfaced, 

swirled, and re-submerged, 

for there was a certain 

descriptive caution 

to be observed.

He certainly didn't want 

to over-romanticize 

his current enthrallment.

No. It was best to tell it as it was.

Pure concrete description, and yet... 

How could he help but 

be influenced by his heart?

Everything about her face 

was no different than

every other beautiful face 

he had ever known.

When you reach such 

   level of beauty,

differences are measured 

within fractions of degree.

At this point, it remains 

the slightest of imperfections 

which delineates absolute beauty.

Yes. There's beauty and then 

there's that which is the absolute.

In her case, 

said minute defect manifested  

with the spread of her luscious lips.

Indeed, beneath their pronounced pout 

lay the extruding mandibles 

   of a wood tick.

Horrible flesh clamping protrusions

which could rip through 

your tender epidermis with an 

unintentional savagery 

of serrate severity.

Yes. Of course 

he cherished her,

but for all her beauty,

and perhaps because of it,

could not bring himself 

to kiss her.

Ó2000 Jack David Hubbell