I don't very much like compliments anymore.
Please, please don't call me beautiful.
I'm still trying to cope with the last time
I was called beautiful,
I wouldn't a' ****** ya
if you weren't
How reassuring,
he said it as though my beauty
was the only reason I was graced
with the gift of his ****.
It wasn't the drinking
or the party
or the conversations we held.
Only my beauty.  

Beautiful
is what the men who are
twice, no, three times, my age
nod at me as I walk to work.

Beautiful
is the nickname given to me
by one night stands
who can't seem to remember
my name is Nicholle.

Beautiful
feels like his hands silhouetting
my body after I told him to stop.

Beautiful
just reminds me of how hollow I feel
at the end of the day

Beautiful
is an understatement
for everything I am.

So please, find another way
to compliment me,
a different adjective
to describe me looks.
Or better yet don't
compliment my looks,
I am so much more.
You can compliment
my words
my soul,
the way I make you feel.