More beautiful than the most perfect painting ever rendered,
She grew used to the compliments constantly cast upon her.
She spent hours staring at her striking reflection in the mirror,
Wondering whether what they said was true.
Was she the fairest of them all?
Did her skin really have a glowing hue, often compared to light of a late Summers evening Sunset?
Did her eyes truly resemble the Emerald Isles, igniting passion in anybody who dared look deeply into them?
Was her wild, untamed, raven hair really rare enough to ignite passion and desire?
She wondered why they never complimented her
She wondered why they never asked her about her
Did they even want to know her, or simply
Gaze at her?
“Flattery gets you everywhere,” that’s what they say, she told herself.
She wondered, though, what’s the point in getting anywhere
If only through artificial flattery; never knowing anybody beyond what’s seen by the eye of the beholder?