Don’t Tell Me I’m Beautiful

But tell me I’m Beautiful

Samantha Lazar
Oct 6 · 3 min read
Photo by Suhyeon Choi on Unsplash

It’s easy to be the pretty one.
I have that power over you.
Look up from my chest, I said.
My eyes are watching you.
Not my breasts.

I can let you use me
As long as you appreciate what I gave
Just don’t tell me I’m beautiful
Isn’t my wit and conversation what you crave?

So what, My body is a temple
No one really worships
Yes, I love to be the beautiful one
But I see you looking at someone else

What does beauty mean to you,
Grandmother, Grandfather, Dad?
You tell me I am too young to have love handles
But I’m so beautiful, you said.

Those eyes, your neighbors gush.
I hope I can button my pants.
I am going to work out
Will my heart explode today?
Will running faster give me a chance?

That drive-through didn’t happen
I wasn’t eating in my car.
And if I WAS EATING in my car,
She was too
Does she have memory
Savoring each bite
The grease on her chin

No evidence I ate today.
I need a belt now.
I need to nurse my baby now.
I am so full of milk
All the neighbors can bring their
Children to see and sip

Sometimes, I wish we weren’t cousins
He said.
OH MY GOD!
Me too, I admitted.
I hate the attention.

I love you.
Don’t tell your grandma, ok?
I can keep a secret.
But I cannot.
I loved it. It was wrong.

All I want to do is get you.
I cannot stand the thought of you.
Sleep in my tent with me.
Tomorrow we will get breakfast
And get married over coffee
With cream and no sugar.
Sugar is a deal breaker.

Yes, we are so beautiful
Sitting at your bar.
You love the control,
The slip of the drug.
Because you could own our beauty,
We escaped.

Would you have even known
Which mangled bodies
Mixed with metal from a guard rail
Cement in place of teeth
Wombs ripped sideways
Would you recognize our
beauty now that we
were asleep at the wheel
not even a dream could pull
our minds back into ourselves

What is beautiful?
The want to just not shower.
The sweat under my jeans.
My unwashed self lagging,
Pressing buttons on my phone.

Waiting for it to ring
So you can tell me
I’m beautiful.

Tits pointed down
The squashing of glands
The hoping it’s nothing
What runs in your family?

My body already convinced
That public sex
Is good for me
You just didn’t care
When I said, let’s not.

I’m aging
Just like you.
And damn, we’re beautiful.


Broads Non Grata

Disrupt — discover new voices and new aspects of known voices. Pour in your raw emotions of feeling like an outsider to flourish in hope to work towards a more diverse/inclusive world.

Samantha Lazar

Written by

Writing is childlike and serious business: poetry, fiction, and essays in celebration of being a Mom, Wife, Educator, Writer, & Lover of Life

Broads Non Grata

Disrupt — discover new voices and new aspects of known voices. Pour in your raw emotions of feeling like an outsider to flourish in hope to work towards a more diverse/inclusive world.