Pretty.

Tell me I'm pretty.
You are man of many words
And I love to listen to all of them
But there's a lot you don't say.
You ask me all the time
If I'm ok,
How I'm feeling,
How I am.
And you're actually interested in those things but
I sometimes wonder if you're trying to read between the lines.
So my suggestion here is to read between these lines,
These verses
these stanzas,
Read between them.
Read them like I read you.
You're everything I didn't ask for.
I was just giving up again on finding someone to
Understand me.
Someone who was who they said they were
Someone who I had that momentary flash of connection with.
I was so pissed and disappointed the night you bumped into me I actually forgave you for not calling me as I was giving you my number.
I didn't think you would and that
Really,
It didn't matter. I was never going to see you again.
Right?
Just like,
That time we were just going to hang out and watch shows on tv that first night, but instead ended up naked and free and alive in your bed.
Just like
I was never going to stay the night at your house
Just like I said you couldn't come over
And then like.. now.
Tell me I'm pretty.
Because when you tell me I'm pretty I hear you say something else entirely.
I hear you say all the things you can't say. I hear you say all the things you might not ever say and it's
A really good thing you don't tell me I'm pretty often because otherwise I'm pretty sure
Pretty would lose meaning
And I don't ever want to be anything less than pretty
To you.
And I shouldn't have to apologize for being pretty.
Because I know you think I'm pretty.
And I think you're pretty too.