I drove by our college and saw a guy that looked like you-a lot of guys look like you.
He had both his hands in the hands of another girl as they talked waiting for the cross walk to turn.
She looks like me: olive tone skin and dark hair.
She looks like your type.
I almost make a U-turn in the middle of the street while the cars race by.
I think about taking the next street to go back.
Just to hurt myself with the truth or relax myself with confirmation it's not you.
She looks like me but I've dyed my hair a bright red, and I don't fit your typical narrative.
Would your mother despise me with vibrant hair and a nose ring?
Is that why you picked her?
A subtle addition to the table.
The girl you wouldn't have to defend, she just blends in.