She isn’t like any of us.

She isn’t like any of us.

She isn’t like any of us.
She doesn’t taste like coke mixed with ice.
She didn’t just sit there and let the ice melt

to nothingness–
like any other girl you’d come across
on the bus stop, the train, not even in school.

She isn’t like us.
She isn’t one to throw broken pens from the balcony.
She isn’t one to make faces when bored to death.
She isn’t one to be reckless—

one to be as reckless as we are,
one to understand and live the word the way we do.
She isn’t like any of us.

But I didn’t say you cannot love her.
I didn’t say you can’t make her world your world.
But your world isn’t her world.

You better understand that and two more things:
She’s from your heaven.
And you’re from your hell.

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