why do pretty people have to exist?
your bone structure is an art,
the way your hair falls is poetry,
you look at me with eyes that flash of God.
Your laugh is my favorite thing to hear
and I could look at you for hours if you'd let me.
I like when you're sitting there and you think
I'm not watching, and you do these weird things
with your lips
on whatever can you're drinking from
and I like the gross faces you make
because somehow, they're not gross.
I like your Dragon Army shirt when you just wake up
and it's stretched and ruffled and you should,
by all rights, look as bad as I do in the morning,
but you don't, you never look bad,
your eyes are stars and your heart is the sun,
why do pretty people have to exist?
and why can't I have one?