the beauty is boring

the beauty is
and always has been
right here

in the mundane
in the worn out

yes, there is glamour
and glory
and shine

but beauty is boring
it isn’t divine

it isn’t in a bougie wood-fired pizzeria
but in scraping your bowl
in a meal you cooked here

in your home
in the places
you pour out your soul

when it rains, it pours
when it pours, it growls

but storms
and rains
and calls
out loud
give form to rage
turn yours to ours