less being more

she loved the mirror
and told me unblushingly
that people often
mistook her for grace
kelly, when she was
younger, when they were
both younger. it didn't
matter to me, but there
was an ache in her
to prove, or show that
she was still beautiful,
still desired, and in
passing she would mention
the men who went out
of their way to say hello,
or to ask her out.
single men, married men,
young and old this happened
all the time, she said.
on the bus, in the grocery
store, when she went
running in her tight shorts,
or walking through
the streets of old town
in her summer dress. none
of this mattered to me,
in fact it pushed me to
the other side of beauty,
wanting less, in order
to have more.