He called me beautiful,
And I wanted to reply

Beautiful
Is not a word for the mosaic girl
Made up of broken hearts
And badly tattooed promises

It's not a word for the girl who breaks mirrors
Just so her reflection can resemble something closer to what she feels inside

It's not a word for the girl with tired hands
Burdened with scorch marks
From old flames she tried so hard to hold on to

Or who drowns herself
In shots of whiskey
Because it is the closest she will get to reaching the bottom of something

Beautiful
Is for the girl
With love stained lips
And happy ever after perfectly glittered over the shadows of her eyes

It is for the girl
Who only feels joy whenever she cried

I wanted to reply
Beautiful is for the girl
Who devours that sweet word
You only meant with your eyes

That word
You only said as you scanned my thighs
And wondered how deep
Into this skin
You could dive

How deep you could skinny dip in wet bedsheets
Without acknowledging the beautiful woman that's drowning  inside

I wanted to tell him that beautiful was a lie

I wanted to tell him
That the word
Felt like an old itchy jumper
Seemingly warming
But masquerading a body so raw
From trying to scratch away the finger prints of past lovers

Who would camouflage their lies
By parading beautiful colours
Just so they could chameleons their way into my covers

I wanted to tell him
That beautiful
Did not exist in my bed

It doesn't keep me warm
or kiss me goodnight
It doesn't visit me in the morning when I look in the mirror
And beautiful does not stare me in the eyes

I wanted to tell him that
BEAUTIFUL
doesn't mean **** when it is only meant for the night

Instead
I smiled at him and replied

I wonder if you would still call me beautiful if you were blind?