A Cliché Poem About a Non-Cliché

Her eyes do not sparkle,
Only dark circles from long lonely nights
Highlight her lovely green irises.

Her smile does not light up the room,
She merely grins fiendly to herself,
Like she finds the world’s existance to be just too ironic.

She does not pine for attention,
But in return, gives her’s
To no one else.

Her steps are not sure and graceful
As she stubs her toe
Gliding up the stairs.

She is not the cliché girl he dreams of,
But it matters not;
He is mezmorized.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback