Pretty, With A Difference Poem by Aryana West

Tall and pale-skinned
with long, jet black hair
like the sky during a storm.
Bright, illuminating blue eyes
that seemed to pierce her surrounding darkness.
She was pretty in a different kind of way
from her black shirt to her black boots.
Slightly-worn jeans.
Words written in black ink.
She looked like an inescapably sad story
yet, as though she were proud of being one.
With her head hung low,
arms at her sides,
she walked past me with an additude of
Indifference.
To a place where black lipstick
has never gone
before.