And She was like the color of a dress I'd always liked. A rumbling roiling rusty red I'm not supposed to wear. Too similar to myself, She is, you need to seek another it's not enough to love someone as dearly as a brother.
I think She's somehow mystical and I love Her when She's strange yet I must resent the way that She won't fit in day-to-day. There are so many perusals and samples I could take She's not the object of my lust and yet I want a taste. It's the person that I'm pining for, the girl beneath Her skin but the way She is is seen outwards She's glowing to the brim.
inspired by "The Miseducation of Cameron Post" by emily m danforth