In the dark bedroom, alone, too alone, I could hear the whispering. The soft, hushed voice of concern. Nobody loved her. She wasn't pretty. She was sad. Alone.

I wish you could've known then. The tricks pretty girls play. All the girls know these tricks, even the ugly ones-- they just don't get to play them.

Only the pretty girls can say they aren't pretty and have the boys pleading with them to reconsider.

No sounds. Silence. A kiss-thought hovers. Will you kiss her, make her feel better? Everyone wants to.

Please don't kiss her.

But she feels so alone. And you want to. And you want to do other things too. Everyone does.

Please don't kiss her.