she's not exactly my type.
she has brown eyes,
(deep, dark, drowning)
while i've always thought i preferred blue.
she's not exactly my type.
she's one of the shortest people i know,
(she may be but little, but she be fierce)
while i thought i usually fell for tall people.
she's not exactly my type.
she has brown hair,
(messy but beautiful)
while i thought my type was black hair.
she's not exactly my type.
she's loud and unapologetic,
(and i love that about her)
while i thought quiet people were better.
she's not exactly my type.
and above all,
we might not have a doomed love story,
(which is a first, and incredible)
while i've always fallen for tragedies.
she's not exactly my type.
but my heart doesn't seem to care.
YOU ARE READING
Raging Storm
Poetry{a storm may last a moment but a moment is all it takes} raindrops can be hurricanes, too. all raindrops end up in the ocean eventually, though. but we will rise again, learn to breathe again, because broken doesn't mean weak. A collection of poems...
