Her golden mane is a shimmering sea of beauty,
Cascading gracefully past her ever-prominent shoulder blades
Shining in the warm sunlight of early morning.

Her cocoa eyes with green and ginger flakes
Look as if they could pierce your soul
Making you reveal even your darkest secrets.

Her sharp jaw line
The way her chin juts out just enough
When she turns her fragile head

The way he looks at her
He absorbs her beauty
Staring until his eyes can’t bear to stay open longer.

If only he’d look at me like that.

But then I remember,
My hair is not a plethora of platinum perfection
My eyes don’t contain the mystery of my wearied insides
And my jaw line is far from picturesque.

He’ll never want me
Average and bland
Boring and decent

Cause I’m not her.