I’ve fallen in love with a girl today,
All over the place but put together.
She wears her clothing like no other,
A different girl every week.

These stories of her remain in my journal,
All battered and torn from pages worn,
Where her lipstick print stays bright and outlined,
I trace the lines I’ve written of her.

She’d smoke cigarettes on her roof in her free time,
And listen to her indie music in the car alone.
Not a soul to know where she was going,
Or where she found that music within her.

Although surprised, she fell in love,
With the same name she once hated,
All she could do was embrace the nature,
Of her new found joy.

Drinks, she had many,
Upon many gatherings and parties,
But at the end of the day,
She was still the dancer she always dreamed she would be.

She’d stream her memories on her blank wall,
With the projector she kept in the back of her closet,
And the film she’d keep in her heart forever,
Almost too long, actually.

But each day she’d print new ones,
With her minolta she held dearly,
By the beach taking the same photo,
But each with a different meaning.

She was the type to wander the stars at night,
Under a tree in her hammock,
Fiddling with her favourite ring,
The one that shined no matter the light.

These stories and dreams are in print forever,
Written in secret with words so clever.
One day I know I’ll look in the mirror,
And I’ll see that girl again.