my hair has always been unruly.

i was no stranger to things that are hard to maintain.

so, when you ran your fingers through my head, i become very aware of you.

the twitch of your lips, the way your breath slowed.

is the coarse texture off putting? does it bother you that it's blooming from my scalp?

as your fingers come past my shoulders and to the end of their journey, you stare at your hand, realizing you had tugged a few stray strands that coiled in different patterns.

i held my breath, waiting for the familiar look of disgust on your face.

“your natural hair is lovely.”

my world stilled.

you had my heart in your hand, but did not choose to crush it.

in fact, you even planted warmth as you watered the roots of my rapidly beating *****.

i was no stranger to things that are hard to maintain.

but, oh, how i wish you wouldn't be.