They — whoever they are — didn't lie with the saying, "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder".  Thing is, the bearer of beauty, it turns out, may not be the beholder of same. 

I am particularly concerned about people who have a problem receiving genuine compliments. I mean, why do I have to be a suspect for seeing what you have consistently failed to see? I call you beautiful, you call me a prankster, or, at best, one given to much flattering. 

Why do I have to bring you up to the pedestal of believing that there's beauty in you? Such a weight seems a bit too heavy for a beholder of beauty that I am, something you're not, obviously.

The beauty you radiate runs deeper than the shallowness of society's definition which, by every sense, is an unfortunate tragedy of perception.  You are beautiful with a beauty that stands, regardless of the size of your bossom or how much your derriere jiggles. 

I see what you're trying to do; conveniently calling yourself ugly and somehow buying into the sham that this is modesty. Your self perception is a stained glass forged from outside opinions. Your supposed truth stands on the weak legs of commentaries of people who, from the last time I checked, are not you. 

So, when I rebel against the lie you've been fed by calling you beautiful, you brush it off and dismiss me almost immediately as one would skip a YouTube ad in the middle of an interesting watch. 

So, call me a speaker of sugar-coated words, honey-dripping descriptors but that's okay because, last I checked, that feels like flowers I have earned by having seeing eyes. However, the crux of this piece is that you, dearest bearer of a beauty that's mostly unsung, would rise up to beholder status and see that beauty truly lives in you. Simply put, all I am saying is for you to see yourself through my eyes.