don't call me beautiful.

don't call me beautiful.
i know, i know, you think i am without a doubt in the world. you honestly believe that the twinkle of my eyes are like the glitter that lace the stars that shine at night. you hold me in your arms and stare at my body in awe, how the curve of my hips and the slope of my back fit perfectly in your arms. my lips and the way yours automatically tingle when you think of them, and the way my eyelashes curl when you're close enough to count each and every one.

but don't call me beautiful because i swear to you i'm not.
i'm a timebomb four seconds away from exploding and destroying and tainting. i'm a magnificent skyscraper burned to the ground, i'm the fallen.
i'm dark and twisted and you misread what you see in my eyes because what it is are the sins and the deception and the evil that grows in the marrow of my bones reflected in my irises for the world to beware and stand their ground.

i'm not constructed properly. in fact there's a couple pieces missing here and there. see i've been thrown onto walls and crushed underneath bare feet so many times that i'm broken beyond repair. scars tattoo my arms and legs and chest and my face has forgotten which muscles to use in order to smile.
and my words, oh my words.
they're aggressive and mean and cut like a knife on virgin skin. but my words are me. so don't call me beautiful, not yet. just read my words because i swear they're uncut diamonds, jagged and worthless but having the potential to become so much more.

maybe then we could be beautiful together.