I whisper...
"You're beautiful."
And in that moment,
Doubt grows bold to rob her of what should be,
the sweet reassurance,
Of a man expressing his heart's interpretation of what his eyes see.
For she,
had never been told she was beautiful.
"Cute", "fine", "pretty" and even the playful "You Aight."
but tonight,
she's looking as if she's being lied to,
as if I had tried to,
win points by stretching the truth.
Doubt is holding firm,
and as her eyes search away from my face,
My heart raises its pace,
She needs to hear it again,
"You are beautiful,
Not sort of good enough,
Not better with less on,
Not like some image on TV,
But like what it is I see when you feel much less,
and I still can't believe that on your lowest days,
You are still the very best."
She heard me this time...
Where is Doubt now...
Looking for the next woman that wishes her man would say "You are beautiful..."
***One reader's take on my poem***
