I wish I was the kind of girl who'd taken a left instead of a right and ended up in a different town. Perhaps if I was another kind of girl, I'd meet you in bar and I'd tell you that I thought you were pretty, even though I meant you were handsome. I might let you buy me a drink. I might kiss you in the bathroom, pressed against the stall. If I was that girl, I'd write my name in sharpie on your hand, only this time, you'd call.
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