She used to be mine.
With curves like dunes on the beach
and hair that tumbled in bouncing curls
When she was mine she could make
everyone smile with ease and pride
beamed on her from every eye, a beauty.
But the pain I hid behind their
joy was too much burden to bear and,
to their horror, I cut her hair.
With every strand that fell away
I shed her from me, releasing her
who was never meant to be mine.
Now I cover the dunes under ocean waves,
tuck the shorn curls into a cap,
and try to forget that she was ever me.