they say i should be flattered.
that it’s nice,
being told you’re everything.

but i’ve felt hands behind compliments.
heard the lock click
after "you’re special."

and felt my own words shrink
to fit the dress he zipped me into.
how quickly softness
can sharpen into a trap.
how a compliment
can lead you down a hallway
with no doors.

and still,
they say it with a smile.
as if it’s not happening
when it’s dressed in praise.