If I were the kind of girl who was pretty...
then Id be the type of girl who would come up to you
and face you
and say "Hi pretty boy. I like you."
but Im not so I trip over words and wish I were thinner, or had nicer eyes, or better hair, and I gag over everything I say..
and I will lie to make you like me because I need you to like me.
This night is clumsy, always falling
and my painting has days smearing into the next so I guess watercolors werent the right choice.
The music is calling and every word is a soliquoy voiced of an open grave.
My rubber band is stretched too tight, banded out over days and weeks of empty faces and heartfelt letters.
You are not my one and only, you are barely my anything.
I am bored and you seem like you wouldnt cause stress because I cant see myself ever getting attached to you.
You arent the first, youre short by about a million other stupid boys and you wont be the last.
Youre a space filler and Im heartless for saying it.
My days are hot and my nights are airless.
All the new art is contemporary, and my mind is trapped in a new beginning, anything to be reborn.
Anything to start this over.
Lets shake hands.
Ill introduce myself; youre speaking to a celebrity.
Im the meanest girl.
Prepare to be brokenhearted.