Her skin smelled like peppermint; it wasn't love more like infatuation.
I liked the way she wore her hair; long and colorful.
I liked how her eyes always fit her mood; always changing.
I liked how she never seemed to really care she just went with the day.
No, this wasn't love, but she made me curious.
She made me wish I could be her.
That I could have that smooth confidence, or those perfect teeth.
She made me want to dress differently and talk slower with more care.
She always smelled like peppermint, it was always refreshing.
She was a good girl who everyone thought was a bad girl.
No I didn't love her, but I was infatuated.