h111
Anorexic
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- Feb 8, 2024
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Jordan Barrett is not a face,
he is the shape beauty takes
when it forgets itself.
He is light falling through trees,
fractured and infinite,
never the same twice.
His beauty is a tension—
not soft, not sharp,
but something in between,
like the space between notes
in a song that stays with you.
His eyes are not windows,
they are mirrors you don’t recognize—
they show you a version of beauty
you never thought to name.
There’s no symmetry in him,
just the quiet elegance of things
left unfinished—
like a skyline half-hidden by fog,
or the first breath of spring
when winter still lingers.
Jordan Barrett is beautiful,
not like a statue,
but like water,
always changing,
always slipping just beyond
what you think beauty can mean.
he is the shape beauty takes
when it forgets itself.
He is light falling through trees,
fractured and infinite,
never the same twice.
His beauty is a tension—
not soft, not sharp,
but something in between,
like the space between notes
in a song that stays with you.
His eyes are not windows,
they are mirrors you don’t recognize—
they show you a version of beauty
you never thought to name.
There’s no symmetry in him,
just the quiet elegance of things
left unfinished—
like a skyline half-hidden by fog,
or the first breath of spring
when winter still lingers.
Jordan Barrett is beautiful,
not like a statue,
but like water,
always changing,
always slipping just beyond
what you think beauty can mean.
