I was fascinated with you when we met. I hated you silently before and then I thought you were the hottest gal. I sat there and looked at you, I was like WOW.
The next day I turned back to hating you. Perfect lips, skinny precious hips, invisible thighs and a mouth to adore oh-so-many. You were incredible and I was struck and paralyzed from overdosing you, your image, your picture of the ashtray girl, sexed up in movement, twirly in speech. Then I just settled for glancing at you once in a while. And it never again felt the same as we never were.