​first impressions are the worst impressions
Gabriela ‘Guppy’ Shaffer
 
 
I think you could be pretty if you didn’t try so hard not to be
I’m probably not in the best state to judge, see my eyes are clouded with lost sleep and thick raindrops, late night demons keep my mind awake and my heart scared
But even through the haze of stiff brain cells and soaked sleeves I can still pick out things that could make you pretty
Maybe
Like I said I’m not the most coherent person right now, the dizzying sensation of stoplights flashing through rain droplets on the bus window is making it hard to concentrate, so don’t take this too seriously but makeup isn’t doing you any favors
See, you’ve got bright red lipstick, spilling out from the precise outlines of your lips to stain the skin around, but it isn’t the red that I like
It’s more orange than purple and it makes your teeth look yellow even though they probably aren’t
And it’s such a shame because you have nice teeth, all straight and sharp
And your skin looks dusty because it doesn’t shine except in awkward places like around your nose and between your eyebrows, catching the eye of speeding cars and overhead lamps
It makes your face look fat and circular even with the dark bronzer you put under your cheekbones
And that sucks cause you got some nice cheekbones, all round but still there, you know?
I thought about lending you my jacket because your friends keep laughing at you in your spaghetti strap dress and pointy high heels but I don’t think my drenched hoodie will do you much good and I doubt you’d take it anyway
My stop starts to approach, across the street from Sway and Noah’s Bagels, and we both stand up
I don’t take notice until I realize none of your friends stood up with you
An old lady wobbles past, plastic bags rustling against her sides, and slumps into your now vacant seat as your friends leer and whisper at her ripped jacket and thick track pants, mud stained and drenched
Your lips tip up slightly, making your cheekbones peek out and your eyes glitter from behind false lashes and smudged eyeshadow as the woman murmurs a tired thank you, you ignore the judgement of your chosen companions
One of them snaps at you, much like an angry chihuahua, asking why you stood up and you say you like standing better than sitting, moving your weight from one foot to the other, but I see your legs shake as you try to balance on your high heels
I glance back at you as the bus slows before jumping onto the slippery pavement, almost falling to the amusement of your friends, and see you wave and give me an apologetic smile that doesn’t seem condescending somehow
And as I walk away I realize I’ve grown an appreciation for orangey red that wasn’t there before
 
 
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