an Argentine comparison

you make me feel so boring. 
what am I when compared to your exoticized hair and eyes and demeanor? 

here I am, between two places. bland and exotic. black and white. black and south american. 

there you are, fully south american but able to assimilate fully. and you are still exotic. 

you can sing. I cannot. 

you are beautiful. I am not. 

I am a pencil, chewed with my yellow skin flaking off. 
you are a fountain pen, ready to be dipped in black ink by a royal signing a decree. 

when we were friends, I thought you could transfer me some of your charisma. your southern american charm. 

but here I am, left with my inbetween. my insipidity.