If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,

then beauty is what I behold.

My eyes trace your veins,

your rough edges,

the places where you have been bruised by life’s bumps and grinds.

I see the vulnerable places,

where skin is transparent,

where  cellophane wraps cells

in discomfiture,

uncertainty stretches you taut.

Human-packaged humanity,

comfort in warped wrap,

friendship in flawed form.

Yet here,

now,

I behold you –

real.

Imperfect.

Beautiful…