2019.08.11
dearest —,
another message? a letter?
yes; i'm writing to you again.
in secret. i'm writing to you
when you won't (most probably)
see this, ever.
i wanna tell you;;; that you're
always dancing && prancing
in my head. mementos
of our bickering always flash inside it. sometimes, it's only for a brief
moment, a spared second.
at sappy times, your
smile && words play like a
sickeningly sweet rom-com inside
my mind for more than 10
minutes.
did i tell you i love your smile? did i ever
say how i fall inlove your opinions? i
love how you act like that ' basic ',
preppy, rich girl we both hate.
you hate the mundane, the everyday
— the common. You wanted to love someone who was a breath of
fresh air; exciting, exhilirating—
the type of girl that'd take you to the
edge.
frankly, i'm not quite that girl.
i'm as basic as those insecure,
cliché, wattpad main characters
that you'd hate. because
she lets her fear swallow her
in whole;
where it'll come to the point;
that another woman gets
her love interest; this girl
is wild— she probably loves
smoking, and loves the
sex pistols.
i'm not that girl; yet i'm the plant lady,
so soft && sweet; probably
a crackhead at some times
too.
i'm the plain jane you hate;
" the nerd ,"
YOU ARE READING
HARANGUES && CUPS OF TEA
Random-in which a poetry and stars-obsessed female rants about her obsessions, annoying teachers, and life in general.
