The most beautiful things have beautiful insides.
They laugh. They cry.
They speak…truth, deeply.
They are deep with ridges that you can run your fingers on and through and form a mental memory of what they feel like.
The most beautiful things are unknown, undiscovered, beneath things, hidden, lost and never to be found, priceless. They are shiny and dull and new and old and sometimes mistaken as anything but what they really are.
The most beautiful things are accessible and unavailable. They are inside and precious and protected from prying hands on the outside.
The most beautiful things don’t know they’re beautiful. They can’t speak words of beauty because the most beautiful things as it relates to themselves because they can’t see themselves.
They are humble in that way.
The most beautiful things are on the inside.