To be in the face of Beauty- br and she was Beauty- br is intimidating; br there is the desire to br not be close br for being close intensifies the br sense of inadequacy. br br It is a shock to be in the face of beauty br and there arises br at least for me br the desire to find just one flaw br to cling to. br br I re-run that fleeting face br back through my mind br to find the way to sanity. br br I don't have this view about Nature's beauty br which evidently I tolerate; br but personal beauty br is alive br inches from me everyday br which I face br at the elevator door, br which opens like br the doors of heaven br and there she is; br she and I br eye level to eye level br alone. br br The awkward turn br to face the front; br arm-wrestling with the desire br to turn around to have another look; br the eyes themselves still resonate br with the image set br deep in the retina. br br I can hear her breathe; br we two alone; br the elevator rising br br I feel her there br at one point holding her breath br matching my withholding too. br br Finally my floor; br relieved br I flee br confused br again by too much Beauty. br br And she br I am sure br faired no better; br the tension was electric. br br I sure she felt br I did not like her br nary ever a smile for her br stony silence br emanating from the back br of my neck. br br I see her everyday br and nothing changes. br br She is Beauty br and I am br intimidated. br br We cannot be close. br or even friends. br It is that way I think br because br some people br churn my soul br especially the truly br beautiful ones.