for some reason,
i truly do think it would have taken me longer to cut him off
if i hadn't cut the hair first.
it's the silliest thing,
i'm looking back at photos of me in february and march
and i guess i look like myself
those photos feel like her.
submerged in the murkiest and sweetest of dreams,
but her hair is long.
and side by side,
i have a photo of me taken
just this past tuesday
and i am blessed
to have progressed to the point where i can look at the two of them and think
show-stopping
but.
this summer and this season
i think i was meant to be short haired
does that make sense?
its impulsive
simple.
it feels like danny,
somehow it helped me claim the good and the pure in that possessive while releasing the hold it had on me.
i cut off so many things in my life,
it was only natural my hair went with it all
i don't resent or regret the change. a day will come where i can't claim what i associate with the short hair and i will unquestionably miss it. with this hair comes the wildest sense of power.
long haired damaris will come again one day. i await and anticipate her appearance in my life like a long lost friend promising to visit soon. but it is a peaceful, at ease sort of waiting. i am in no rush. i will feel just as vividly as that girl beaming in the spring snow once more. my smile will show the light inside of my heart, it won't be as dim as i sometimes feel it is now. and maybe i won't ever have to cut my hair for the reasons i did in march 2020 ever again. isn't that lovely?
YOU ARE READING
ruby
Poetrypoems about the next stage of my life, hopefully about new experiences but also about hanging onto something the heart has desperately longed for and isn't quite ready to give up
