The Works of An Average Sad Queer Girl: Poetry Collection

Shorter Hair; Longer Breath

My parents taught me not to care

too much

what I looked like.

I didn't have to be skinny, or wear make-up, or dress a certain way

all good lessons, I agree.

But they failed to teach me

about the confidence that clothing can inspire

about how beautiful it can be to walk around looking like you feel.

"It's just hair"sounds like great advice

So I keep my hair long (it's just hair).

Push it up in a hat when I don't wanna deal (it's just hair).

I grow to hate it, pretend I don't.

after all,

it's just hair.

I walk into drama class one morning in

bright

pink

leggings.

The only comfortable thing I could find to exercise in.

But I'm not comfortable

My hair

unkempt

my face

unmakuped

it's college and no one is judging me

except myself. And I hate it.

I want to

dis-

          -a-

                -pear

I walk away feeling

not enough.

"F" grade on femininity.

I catch on pretty quick

that it isn't

"just hair"

Next time we go for haircuts

they ask me

"just a trim?"

and I say "No,

I want it short."

"How short?"

"Real short"

The next time I walk into class

I walk with my head held high

"A" grade for being me.

Because it's just hair to you

but it's breathing to me.