your hair was brown when i met you
and it was just long enough to spill over your shoulder
like hot coffee on a Monday morning.
he broke up with you in October
and you showed up 3 days later
with the split ends that always tickled my arm chopped off
and dyed an angry, passive-aggressive red
like some kind of statement, a confessional
because in 10th grade
ditching you at the movies
feels like he's just left you at the altar
and you started holding my hand
and losing sleep
over him
while i started falling in love
with you
*
365 days later
we aren't talking anymore
and i feel like i'm being suffocated
but then you text me at 11 pm
and i say, "we haven't spoken in months"
and you say, "he broke up with me"
and just like that
every shade of your hair
and the way it used to catch in the sunlight
fills up the gaps between my fingers
where yours used to be.
and when i see you the next day
your hair is shorter than it was in the summer
and it's dyed an official, goodbye black