the things i will do for a pretty face and for no other reason.

the things i will do for two brown eyes over a smile that shouldn’t matter

because boys aren’t the only ones who like looking at things.

the pretty on him isn’t what listens

it’s not what holds me, not what warms me, not what kisses my neck.

but the pretty is what fills my thoughts and writes my texts.

 

it’s odd, really, a weird universal

that something with no effect on anything but a portion of your field of vision

(that’s all that pretty is)

can matter so much.

pretty isn’t really something to think about

but it sure writes a lot of poems.

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