I am looking at the photograph of a woman,
And she is standing right behind me,
'I don't look good in this one,' she says.
And it's clearly an eighties shot;
The hair clip and Boy-George makeup give it away,
But she is clearly such a beauty;
She is beautiful in such a unique way.
She has such long dark hair,
Such clear, mauve-blue eyes,
Such amazing skin, speckled like the shell of a duck egg.
And she is far lovelier than I,
Even now.
And then she hands me another photo.
It's a headless, naked portrait;
Her legs are spread to the camera.
She frowns, then sneers and points to her sex,
'I shouldn't have let them take that shot; it's such an ugly, fleshy thing ...'
And I am surprised.
Her vulva is a perfect cowry shell tinted pink and so lovely
And she is far lovelier than I,
Even now.
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