I like that my hair isn’t exactly like I wanted.
I like that my hair is amazing.
I hope that you’re okay with me not being sure.

It’s obvious that I’m trying to hold you off,
and not being able to figure out if you don’t want to get in
is another sign that I know exactly what I’m doing.
You make me question if this ain’t another romcom ripoff.

It should be something here,
just like this poem I wrote.
Making the 3rd stanza my last
kinda makes things less structured.

I’m thinking about trying to have a non-ideal
but nonetheless perfect story,
where the villains don’t win and the heroes don’t die.
It ends when all of them are happy, even if no one knows why.

What a pretty last sentence.
I hope you all die rhyming;
that way it makes sense,
even though it doesn’t.