i want to cut it off
this angelic golden down that adorns my head
and cascades down my back
in classic, virginal ringlets.
cut it off and then maybe the weight off my head
will ease the weight on my chest too…
it’s always been here, it’s always been this
great blonde curtain to hide my shame and sorrow
and i have always loved it..
brushing it in slow, long strokes,
watching it fall between my fingers in the mirror.
i have always loved it more than i have loved myself..
lovingly combing in luxurious oils,
letting it fall how it wanted,
letting it dry for hours and hours as it curled itself
under the influence of only the wind and sun.
yes this great adornment of gold and luster,
i have loved it like it possesses its own soul.
but why is it that i cannot love myself if
this wispy beauty is a part of me?
(the only defining feature upon
my bland genetic makeup.)
if i cut it off maybe it will cease breathing
and i can begin again.
maybe if i can nurture and love new growth
then i can let myself grow too,
from root to tip in the way my body manufactures
it’s many many many cells
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