She listens to her indie music loud.
Her favorite color is black.
She reads The Bell Jar for fun;
all the classic female authors in her repertoire. Her nails are always painted.
She is a cynical millennial.
Her wardrobe is eclectic in taste, but minimal in color.
She wears lipstick and mascara but ties her hair up messily.
Her eyes are shielded by a pair of large glasses.
She writes poetry and listens to sapphic loves songs.
Her coffee is hot and black, like the soul she claims to not have.
She has depression that no one sees –
something that is a female commonality.
Her days are spent fighting herself.
She is kind but not soft-spoken.
Her favorite movies are in black and white.
She is in love with Emily Dickinson, Sylvia Plath, and Jane Austen too.
Her jaded heart has so much love to give, but none for herself.
She watches cartoons and crushes on the lead. Her celebrity crush is the same as others'.
Who is she?
A living trope,
a classic she.
YOU ARE READING
Stereotypical
PoetryThis is a collection of random poems/letters that I'll probably never get to say aloud.
