I got a new bottle of nail polish. It isn't really my style but the name is what captured my attention. The color is a pale aqua with sparkles mixed. When the brush glide across my nail, it appears clear with a tint of the sea and it shines like a thousand stars, like a thousand tears. But it is beautiful.
You're its namesake, didn't you know? Did you even know you broke my heart?
Maybe it'll disappear down the side of my bed or under the dresser. It might run and hide at the mere thought of getting close to me once more. That seems to be your trademark. Who is to say the nail polish will not follow suit?
The people you hang out with are the people who turn their noses up at girls like me. And we both know you know this. Isn't that why I've never met your best friend? I bet he doesn't even know the sweet nothings you whisper to me. I'm probably a joke to him like I know I am to you.
This nail polish is not my style. It is not what I want nor what I need.
You are not my style.
But why is it you are what I want and what I need?