I cut my hair just to see if it would grow back.
It was long, thick, and somewhere between
Light brown and strawberry blonde.
I hung my head upside down
And ran my fingers through the eighteen inches
Of snigs and snags and knots
For the final time.
It wasn't silky.
It wasn't particularly soft.
I gathered it into a ponytail
And
Chop, chop, chop
Thousands of tiny hairs cried out
And tumbled to the floor en masse.
I shook my head about
Flinging my shorter hairs into my eyes.
I glowed with the feeling of liberation
While I shivered from the cold on my bare neck
So I stared at the fallen golden rope
Part gleefully, part mournfully
And I waited,
Warily and giddily and wonderingly,
For my hair to grow back.

I tell you this, not to explain
That old photo of me where I look like a boy,
But so that you can understand that
If one day I decide to push you away,
I'll only be waiting.