If someone wrote about me, I’d want them to write about how they fell in love with me,
They fell in love with my smile and noticed my little crooked tooth,
They’d say they fell in love with my loud girly laugh,
Or that they noticed the coloring on the outside of my eye,
Something about how they knew in my face that I was sad,
And that I bite my cuticles when I’m nervous,
That they loved how I was a secret writer,
they’d say that they loved my different sides of sweet and sassy,
and that they knew I had an appreciation for appearance and clothes,
the tone of my voice as I’m falling asleep is their favorite thing,
and every time they see me their heart skips a beat,
I’d want someone who loves me to write about my likes and interest,
The stories I’ve shared from my past,
And the eventful things planned in my head for the future,
I’d want you to talk about how you watched me sit underneath that tree as I read a book in the grass with white cotton shorts and my hair was a mess,
That everything so imperfect about me you loved in every single way,
That my scratches and scars didn’t show but you knew where each was located,
I’d want you to say how I’m an innocent girl and although you’re the baddest of the boys I helped you leave that rock bottom spot,
If you were to write about me, there’s a lot you could say, good and bad in many ways,
But the only thing I’d ever want to read was that you loved me just for being me