ugly beauty

And there must be beauty in the places where you don't look-

Under the bed, on the cold floor.
That tight corner he hid himself in for moments too long.
That dusty corner where you can't seem to get the blood off the lines in between the ceramic tiles.
Under the table where you cried, cut, wrote poems and even prayed. Where your words gave you back your sanity and where the world couldn't touch you, even if they tried.

There must be beauty, even in something not alive-

That inextinguishable flame, the dying rose;
The swing that creaks as you sing.
The dried leaves we walk through, laughing
and an empty room that still echoes with music that is no longer playing.

There must be beauty, in the ugliest of things-

The painting ruined by the flood, the cigarette burning between two fingers,
the scars that still hurt after all these years.
Face in the mirror.

There must be beauty, even in something not alive-

A black and white photograph, a letter yellowed with fading words.
Alphabets scrawled in the sand and blown away,
a scent that still clings on to my clothes.
A room, soaked in memories and drenched in things that don't matter anymore.
Not in the least.

And,
there must be beauty,
in the places where we don't look.