i know a girl who likes to write pretentious things like
'long live denim' on misty windows with cherry lipstick,
like a horror movie with less screaming
but even more hollywood fakes.
she's the sort of person who has a handbag
full of boys she's met twice, full of everything
that makes her lose sleep at night.
she's the sort of girl who looks at you briefly,
before searching the room for a better customer
and less complications.
i know a girl who likes to feign romance
for the sake of image, because she likes to humanise
the monster that she hides beneath hooped polo shirts
and white i-pod headphones.
she's the sort of person you'd meet in cafe rouge,
drinking alcopops and posing in a leather armchair
only satisfied when everyone is falling at her feet.
she's the sort of girl i used to ridicule,
laugh at the sheep that dogged her footsteps,
she's the sort of girl i used to hate
but now she lives at the forefront of my mind.
