You were like a wild mustang.
You did what you wanted when you wanted.
You ran through open fields & leapt over fallen trees.
Nothing could stop you.
You wore your hair curly & fluffy.
You wore your glasses proudly.
To me, you were the definition of strength.
& I never had to ask Merriam or Webster about you
Because I already knew your spelling, meaning, country of origin, & how to use you in a sentence.
Then something happened,
I started confusing you for someone I didn't know.
You started wearing contacts saying you hated your glasses.
You started dressing for style instead of comfort saying you wished you looked better.
You started dating her,
& then the next girl & the next girl & the next.
Always saying she was the one.
Always calling when it was over.
& to say that she apparently wasn't the one.
Something I already knew because of the 2 a.m. phone calls on school nights.
All those 2 a.m. phone calls where you complained that she didn't appreciate all that you did for her.
All those 2 a.m. phone calls where you complained that she just didn't understand you.
All those 2 a.m. phone calls that weren't about me.
All those 2 a.m. phone calls that didn't ask how my day was.
That didn't ask how I was doing, how I was feeling.
All those 2 a.m. phone calls about what you were going through.
About how all your new friends didn’t like you as much as you needed them to,
So you tried to change.
& no matter how many times I told you not to,
You didn’t listen.
The reason for this, I assume,
Is that you never took the time to look in the mirror because you were always too busy looking for yourself in others.
Then one day, you decided to cut your hair,
Or rather, other people decided for you & you just went along with it.
You thought this new style that everyone was telling you to go for would make them like you more.
Maybe you’d be cooler if you got rid of the curls & the fluff.
Maybe that brown mess on top of your head needed to be gone.
I mean, it was getting long & going nowhere but up.
What could a little trim really hurt?
You came to school with your head buzzed.
Your curly, fluffy hair tucked away in whatever box you put the rest of yourself away in.
You see, when you cut your hair,
You cut off the only thing you had left that was a part of the real you.
The you that wasn’t made up of fake smiles & bad jokes.
The part of you that only cared about your family & friends.
The part of you that wasn’t plastic.
You had become nothing more than a shell of what once was strength & beauty.
I was disappointed.
But then I remembered,
Even the wildest of mustangs can be broken.
This is to you. You probably won't realize it. You probably won't see it. But I know that this poem is about you. I know what you did. How you changed. How you lied. I know this and that is the only thing I need to know. But that doesn't mean that I don't still hope that the old you comes back.