She wasn't storybook pretty
She wasn't even the plain kind of pretty
No mary sue or timid thing
She was weepy phonecalls at 3am
And smashing plates in kitchen sinks
She was thunder and lightning
Bright and burning
And you couldn't catch her if you tried
She was destruction and it was not
Beautiful, but it was enchanting
The type of girl who stole breaths
Simply for the enjoyment of watching
Us mere things gasping for air
She was a galeforce wind in winter
You couldn't look away,
And she couldn't stay
Even if she wanted to.