“Flattery will get you nowhere,”
a third or fourth grade teacher told this
to our entire class.
For some reason it’s never left me.

Because of those words, I never aim to flatter
and am immediately wary of those
who engage in and succumb to it.
It’s not genuine - I believe that was her point.

So I would rather touch your mind,
notice the small things before they slip
through dusty cracks,
be entranced by the way your hair falls,
and be spellbound by the rhythm
of your words.
I’ll avoid flowery gestures or bodacious words,
instead let me speak truthfully of what I see.
There is no room for pedestals here,
it is your humanity that touches me so.
It’s the trusting way you reveal yourself
despite the teeth of us both.
It’s the way you’re bashful for no reason,
but the reason is there somewhere
unknown to me
I know.

I could compare you to the sun and sky
and all the universe in between,
and perhaps I have and still will,
but in the end
it is your imperfect and unique existence
upon this planet
that I adore so much.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.