baby, don't flatter me like that

I will stare straight through
through your myopic pretensions;

those honey-brown
lit-up-by-ambition
once-in-a-blue-moon-sapphire eyes

that wouldn't dare
make a difference in my life

so gaze airly at me;
ask me if I can stay the night with the
gold-flecked
gilded-age
black-hole
irises

that taught to wake up alone
'cause I learned by the way
you thrust yourself into my mind
to make you expendable

and baby,
I know
that you're
just

vain enough

to think that
this poem
is for you