Ugly Boy

Olivia P.
Ugly Boy
August 4th, 2015

Ugly Boy

Up until a year go, I was never okay with being flawed. None on me or anyone who wanted to cradle my lace hands and kiss my polished lips. I wanted a pretty boy. I didn't care if he was plastic because that's how I wanted my whole world to be.
I stepped lightly with love and compared myself to glass models that stalked the cat walks. Then I realized I was never meant to be an angel.
Finally, at 16 years old I noticed that I was more then a little rough around the edges. I am 17 now and I don't want a pretty boy anymore.
I dove into love with you, ugly boy.
You might feel resentful towards the word ugly but "beautiful", "flawless", and "attractive" are all ash in the wind. They aren't stable.
Ugly means real,
ugly mean raw, it's something I can grasp onto.
I love you ugly boy!
I place kisses on your brow-bone. It's antique, it's primitive.
You're so rough and tough, ugly boy.
Love your thug attitude, you never care how someone thinks unless it's me.
You don't gel your hair, you let it fall in tangled ropes.
You've got me lassoed, ugly boy.
Just like the sunflowers gazing at the sun, I look up to you. Beer breath glazes my face. You unstitched my tightly stretched threads.
Thank you, ugly boy.
You helped me welcome my gargoyle attributes.
You are and forever will be my ugly boy and I your ugly girl.