She had a rocky, Herculean face,
eulogized by poets.
A face made of squares and rectangles,
and scalene triangles;
of raw emotions and experiences.
No signs of smoothness on this face.
A mountainous past,
and the shadows of the mountains,
and the demons in the shadows!
A face without curves or gentle circles.
A smile as heavy as a brick,
unsuitable for social media.
Though her face was artistically beautiful,
no one, not even artists, ever dared to kiss it.
How can such a face exist?
“A visage you see in art exhibitions,” one man said,
“But it lacks… sexuality.
You cannot flirt with such a face!”
But her eyes: mesmerizing,
Archimedean spirals in honey.