Look at me and tell me something kind. Compliment me. Find something that you think is pretty. When nothing comes to mind, look into my soul, tell me something truthful. Show me that my beauty lies within. Yet you can't do that either. Constantly boiled down to the length and curve of my eyelashes and how I'm always smiling. Tell me something different. Tell me I am pretty. Give me something, anything. Your lips are always moving with compliments for others but they are frozen when you look at me. Tell me. Anything will do. I'd take whatever you'd give, but my palms are always empty.
