"Beauty is but skin deep"?

He thinks, as he watches the dawn reflect off her cheeks
She is tangled like a rumour in the 99 count Egyptian cotton
Reminiscing his fingers ripple on her ebbing ribs
And trace the ridged elephant's horn of her bold spine
Shoulder-bones as wings

Her hair singes as flowing fire down her curious neck
Her jaw pointing to the saltiness her collarbone collects
Her flushed nose usually bound by menial annoyances
Her contemplative eyes for favourite conversations
Curly lips for her kind manner
Fleeting dimples amidst boisterous laughter

Her palms are a map as roads she wants to travel on
Her wrists green and purple from everyday accomplishments
The subtlety of her waist in all its contentment
The curve of her hips resilient month after month
The wound from a piercing she will console herself about
Scraped knees are the adventures she won't regret
The niche on her calves are places she has already been
The skinny ankles insisting a skip to her step

She is gorgeous, affirm privy eyes
With her scars, her birthmarks, her freckles
Her pulsating veins and throbbing lungs
She is stories, questions and poetry testifying
Beauty is but skin deep