Does it feel different
when people tell you that you are beautiful
all the time?
I direct my gaze to the sky
and pause—
yes
it feels different.
Compliments feel cheap,
like money thrown carelessly toward women
who crave only an open heart,
shot directly into their world.
If I had a quarter for every time
a man has stood in front of me,
charming me through white teeth
or trying to persuade me
through green eyes
and green paper,
and for a moment I let my guard down
and took the compliment
only to later
be taken advantage of,
I would be able to pay back all the men
who have thrown money at me
in the shape of
filet mignon cooked rare,
bottles of dark wine,
trips to Rome,
bathing suits spun from peach gold,
books to get inside my head,
art to get inside my life.
And I laugh now
knowing
only when my debts are settled
will I be able to look into the world
and see clearly
through the dust
the man standing at eye level with my soul,
with his heart in his hands
asking me
to love him.
Author: Annabelle Blythe
Image: Author’s own
Editor: Nicole Cameron
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