Why do you love me?
I am not your usual,
As your brother
Has often said.

I am not the type of girl
That you prefer.
I do not dance wildly
And offer you my services.

I am not the kind of woman
I have seen you with.
Not painted and padded,
Not primped and curled.

Why do you love me?
When everything I am
Down to what I read and act like
Isn’t anything you’ve ever preferred?