The first time you are told
That you are beautiful
You will not believe it
You will swallow it down harshly
Like a glass of ethanol
Force a mona lisa smile on your unknowing face
And say thank you
Say it like it's something you're used to hearing
Like it actually means something
Like it doesn't hurt as much as it does
Compliments aren't supposed to hurt
But you were taught them backhanded
Raised on anticipation
Expecting to feel a sting after every one you're given
Conditioned to regard praise as unfamiliar
As foreign territory
Body only knowing warzone
And battlefield
Not knowing genuine
Body was never taught how to be loved
How to love
You were too busy trying to learn to love men with rough hands and heavy breath
Too busy giving away parts of you in hopes of getting something back
And what was left over never felt like enough
Felt hollow
Felt maybe you were never meant to feel like you are important
Or desirable
Or anything for that matter
So the next time you are called pretty
Or something of the kind
You will have mastered the art of acceptance
Will have memorized the routine
Will be able to swallow it down faster
Quicker
Will know how to bury it deep inside of you
Yet still bare a vacant hole underneath all of that skin
You were told at a young age
That there was too much of it
That nobody could ever love thick
That they only want thin
When he tells you that you're body is flower and stem
Is garden
Is beauty
Is something to be admired
You will feel the same kind of longing
You have felt so many times before
A kind of homesickness
For a body that has never quite felt like home
Too many residents have attempted to tear it down
Have set it aflame
Have tried to burn you to the ground
It takes someone who treats you well
To realize how incompetently the rest did
It takes someone with intentions of gold
To realize that the rest were just rust
Flattery may not be a language
That you will ever fully comprehend
But it will always be one that is
Unavoidable
You will learn to nod your head
Learn to agree with a cause you might never truly believe in
Might as well accept the inevitable
So when you are told
That you are beautiful
Do everything in your power
To hide your disbelief
Your skepticism
Your complete disregard towards them
Your inability to understand how anyone could ever possibly love something like you
When you are told
That you are worthy
Do your best
To smile
And make it seem like you already know
Like you have known it
For a very
Long time.