i used to be eighteen with blue hair
exuding the pure waters of my heart
to the tangled tips of my salt ridden curls
by nineteen the colors of my waves were stolen by darkness
oil spilling out
to leave a story told in the blackest parts of my eyes
but like oceans before me
the murkiness faded
and sunlight began to graze my waters
but my heart never flowed quite as strong
and the colors no longer touched my curls