Beauty Has A Name

Beauty has a name, but many fail to ask,
In a trance by the youth in her appearance,
The ebony brown of her skin,
The curvature of her hips,
Men fail to realize that she is more than a being to be objectified
Thus she politely yet un-appreciatively thanks them as the compliments fall from their lips,
All too aware of the meaning behind their stare...

She often wonders, if one lone among the many
Would ever approach her in a different manner with a gaze more than a sexual stare
One whom would have the pleasure of knowing her mentally, not physically
One who'd engage  in deep conversation with her
More enticed with exploring the mental complexities that make her uniquely her
Instead of the physical desires that lay at their loins

Beauty has a name,
But not too many wish to acknowledge
Thus she remains nameless