He says "I am Beautiful", I say I am not.

He says "I am Beautiful",

                                I say I am not.

I say that I am not worthy of him,

But still he holds my hand in public.

Others stare as if he is going along with an unusual human being,

But he has that handsome smile over his face "irresistible" answering them back.

I see this lean, fair girl passing by,

I wonder why am I nothing like her?

But there he comes and just ruffles my not so Perfect hair, with a promise.

I try and fit all those Perfect Girls for him in all our snaps replacing me,

With tears in my eyes;

But there he is, clicking more of us and deleting none.

Clubbing with him, finding girls buzzing around him,

Thinking of me as his 'just a friend';

Holding that glass in my hand I wonder why is he with me?

Well again, he takes me to the dance floor and dances on my favourite number.

He holds "me" right infront of everyone,

He embraces "me" when am in doubt,

He smiles and somehow takes it all away,

He dances on "my" favourite song,

He intertwines his fingers with "mine",

He likes it when he snaps it with "me".

Am still in doubt!

I am not even near to being perfect,

I am not lean and I am not pretty,

Then what is it that he wants?

Will he hurt me like others did?

Is it just for fun or forever?

I think and re-think;

He holds me from the back,

I say it again,"I am not beautiful"

And there he is holding me, staring in my eyes and saying, "You are way too perfect to be called Beautiful"