she's six thousand six hundred and twenty days lived
and four hundred sixty more dead
she's thirty two flavours of autumn and spring
and twelve more of everything else
she's three hundred two bookmarks in her browser
and fifty six thousand and nine pages of history
she's thirty nine favourite books of her's
and twenty five favourite quotes of mine
she's twenty thousand and a hundred and three songs listened
and twenty six movies she's watched over time
she isn't the geek, or the jock or the hipster
she's the girl you see in the macaroon shop at midnight
she's one favourite flavour of tea
and two favourite flavors of cupcakes
she's not brooke, anya, or monique
she's not isabella, raven or angelique
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i'm sorry for my indecessivness. i don't want to end this poem - you, as the readers, have the reigns to this one, my dollies
