you used to call me beautiful.
so much it never felt like a compliment.
almost a need rather than a want.
it became fully expected rather than used as flattery.
comparisons between my earthly body and earthly beauty were not uncommon,
and remarks on what you saw in me solely customary.

now i struggle to remember how you saw delicacy in my flaws.
instead your words are filled with incantations of what i lack.
your eyes have lost the old look of loving intoxication,
presently they see what there is too much of,
what could be adjusted or covered.

and where you once found beauty in my words,
exclusively remorse remains.