My hairs coming out in single extensions
but they're not that;
they were once rooted in my head.
This happens every year bringing a new fear of what could be and what isn't.
I've said goodbye too many times this year and losing my hair is just
another one to whisper.
They say hair holds value, whether its comfort, memories, or any sense of spirituality
and part of me is dying
but I think thats okay.
Ive been nothing but a phoenix all my life,
rising from ashes,
spreading my wings to fall again
but I always got back up
more of a warrior than the last time.
I run my hand through my hair and sprinkle the shed across the grass much like the ashes
I continue to rise from.
I know the truth is within me even if
it's hard to stomach.
The pit in it will soon sprout and root in my intestines and grow something new.
Im laying this year to rest with both my best friends and the yearning for what I cant have.