These men

He comes in almost
everyday,
with a compliment
resting between
his lips like a
precious shell on sea sand.

sometimes,
he finds me singing
or reading, and even
on days I refuse to smile
he still calls me beautiful.

like a child; he's curious.

"are you married?"

"Do you have any kids?"

"How old are you?"

"How come you're single"

I always give
some school related
answer.. because
that's my only truth.

I'm still studying,
I can't lose focus, I can't
waste time although studying
feels quite useless sometimes.

He's not the only man
that comes in with
something nice to say...

but I'm this little bird
who can't figure how
to work her wings..

..I wonder if these men
ever mean what they say

..I wonder if they just
want to get between pants
and zippers..or is it more than that?

..am I truly beautiful?
...do I sing as good as they swear
I do?
..Is my smile that great,
and is my hair that awesome?..

Because I,
I never feel that way.

am I worth glancing at more than once?,
will anyone ever love me
as much as I love music,
or appreciate me as much as I appreciate art..

will anyone think as highly of me
as I do of Mel, or Steph?

..will I ever linger
in the thoughts of someone
at midnight, or will I
always be just a passing one.

..will something I do
ever become a blue print
in someone's life, or a tear
in someone's eye..

these men, they tell me
things..and I, I feel
far too stupid listening..

and I am..

far too modest;
to agree with them

far too scared;
to let them take me home

and far too insecure to;
ever, ever, believe them..