"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

To My Secret Love

By Michael Fetter

White skin, the pale strip of a licked candy cane,

Melted over the bones with some blush of mortal vain.

Her smile was carefully sculpted all to seem

There were no staples until you saw the silver gleam.

Tattered remnants of a yellow soiled dress

Held in the soft organs, a bloated red mess.

Blood gone dark like fetid rose petal,

Eyes are green puss, in sockets settle.

Silent song, her face grim wide,

Where neighborly earthworm and maggot reside.

She houses disease with good-natured quiet,

Heart open to all as ants barter and buy it.

And I, in my slippers and cotton over shirt,

Am so enamored, a womanizing pervert.