She used to think
she had a type
the opposites attract type
crush after crush
left in crash fatigue on
high and dry freeway
Her hair is thinning
waistline is disappearing
She wonders anyone
will consider her
their type
She feels the desperation of want
simultaneously of unwanted
her lonely day stretches into the night
like the spilled vinaigrette
greasy, sour and stained
She gathers all pieces
starts swiping for the remaining hope
kind eyes
mean nose
lips that will make her cum
testosterone filled body
a sizable boner
She used to think
she had a type
the type that makes her feel 16
all over again
And now
she will settle for a type
that will soothe her heat rash
like an ice block
hard and cold
Flicker of Thoughts 