I'm more than just a pet name.



It's always exciting to flirt with someone. The feeling of being wanted. Exploiting your confidence hoping for the return of similar affection.

There are an abundance of ways to flirt.

There's the subtle, sweet smile and wink maneuver, the straightforward, almost overbearing remarks like, "damn, you're sexy," or "lemme get that number!" And then there's the mildly-obvious, practical calling of pet-names.

Sweetheart, darling, love, cutie.



This cat-call. It lacks connectivity, it's not specific, it's rudimentary. Being called cutie. It builds a small irritation. It's like an annoying, unappealing rodent. Beautiful makes you feel empowered and strong. Cutie doesn't hold passion or individuality. Cutie is disappointing. It shields your potential.

These "names" reflect the caller's threshold of creativity and character. My demeanor won't be filtered by your petty names.

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741