I told him I loved his eyes 
whenever he looked at me. 
I told him I loved his hair 
whenever he would let me play with it.
I told him I loved his laugh
whenever I tried to make him smile.
I told him I loved everything about him.
Because I truly did. 

My lover told me he loved my hair,
but only when I wore it straight.
My lover told me my eyes sparkled,
but only when they were smeared in mascara. 
My lover told me he loved my hands, 
but only when plastic was glued strictly to my nails.
My lover told me he loved my necklace,
but only when my chest was bare.
My lover told me I was beautiful, 
but only when I was vulnerable before him.
My lover told me he loved me.
But I don’t think he really does.