A hairdryer hums,
then slips too far,
heat where it shouldn’t be.
My hair turns sharp at the ends,
quietly changing shape
without asking me.
The smell stays behind
like proof of a mistake
that doesn’t need words.
Outside, the air is cold,
a simple thing
that doesn’t explain itself.
I walk through it anyway,
not fixed, not ready,
just continuing.
May 3
May 3, 2026 at 4:50 AM UTC
A hairdryer hums,
then slips too far,
heat where it shouldn’t be.
My hair turns sharp at the ends,
quietly changing shape
without asking me.
The smell stays behind
like proof of a mistake
that doesn’t need words.
Outside, the air is cold,
a simple thing
that doesn’t explain itself.
I walk through it anyway,
not fixed, not ready,
just continuing.