a tear dropped
from the face of despair
and wove it’s way down
it’s entangled hair
weaving through waves
of dry dead strands
it untangled the knots
the braids and the bands
sliding ever so slowly
soothing out like oil
every curve and curl
of every anxious coil
straightening the stress
as it falls to the ground
shaking your head off the mess
let your hair hang down

Yesterday I noticed a few blonde hairs mixed in my chestnut brown hair

They blend in until I looked closer
Little strands barely there

They reminded me of when when I was a child

Sunny hair and a freckled face
Bright blue eyes and an always smile
Big front teeth and rosy pink lips

I forget what it felt like to have blonde hair
I forgot what it was to feel free

I know my childhood was not all smiles
Mostly rainy days and hiding away

But I cherish the moments when the sun came out
And I laid in the dewy grass talking to the trees

I remember now how I loved my blonde hair
That glowed under the shining stars

I remember now how I smiled when I looked in the mirror
Loving my reflection, my whole self

Now as I stare at those few blonde hairs
I remember how beautiful I can be
I remember the child that still lives within me

I hope she never leaves

it is hard to think
of mind when your hair is on
fire put out the fire

I kiss you as if to confirm you are here. With me. Not going anywhere.


To confirm your presence.


I kiss you as I kiss your hands, as I rub your hands, massaging them to make sure they are real. In disbelief, perhaps that it is your hand in mine and that I have the pleasure of holding it.


I run my fingers down your back, soft, your arms, sturdy. I clutch a wiry coil of hair, yours, in my fist.


I smooth your face. I kiss your face.


It is soft. It is safe. It is kind. It is right.

Her curly hair sings!

And it enchants me, it is --


electrostatic.

I hated it.
Every single time
you called me beautiful,
I hated it.

I get it;
I have blue eyes,
long hair,
a thin body.
Everything you wanted.

But there's so much more to me than that.

I bet you wouldn't have liked me
if I had shorter hair
and a little extra weight.
That's why I realized I don't want a guy
who constantly calls me beautiful.

I want to be called
mesmerizing,
fascinating,
breathtaking.

Those words say much more about the real me
than "beautiful" ever will.