it is hard to think
of mind when your hair is on
fire put out the fire

I kiss you as if to confirm you are here. With me. Not going anywhere.


To confirm your presence.


I kiss you as I kiss your hands, as I rub your hands, massaging them to make sure they are real. In disbelief, perhaps that it is your hand in mine and that I have the pleasure of holding it.


I run my fingers down your back, soft, your arms, sturdy. I clutch a wiry coil of hair, yours, in my fist.


I smooth your face. I kiss your face.


It is soft. It is safe. It is kind. It is right.

I sometimes wish
I didn't feel
the way that I do
but we met
the other night
for the first time
we met because
we are both lonely
in a new town
and we both wanted more friends
from the moment we talked
I felt my body pulse
for you
which for me
that is quite a rare occasion
especially for a man
I walked to the coffee shop on friday night
and I see you with your dark curls
jeans
and as I got closer
I thought wow he is so so handsome
how can he just be my friend??
As we spoke more and more
throughout the night
I felt more and more pulled towards you
as you cared more and more about me
as we saw that we view the world in such a similar way
your a man
who feels his feelings
we spoke about crying to music
about feelings mental health and heartbreak
and now I am unsure of what to do
or how you feel
I know I am not at all ready for a relationship
or anything else
but all I know is
that I want you
and from what I can see
your insides are just as beautiful
as your outsides.

Her curly hair sings!

And it enchants me, it is --


electrostatic.

I hated it.
Every single time
you called me beautiful,
I hated it.

I get it;
I have blue eyes,
long hair,
a thin body.
Everything you wanted.

But there's so much more to me than that.

I bet you wouldn't have liked me
if I had shorter hair
and a little extra weight.
That's why I realized I don't want a guy
who constantly calls me beautiful.

I want to be called
mesmerizing,
fascinating,
breathtaking.

Those words say much more about the real me
than "beautiful" ever will.

If only it were
like a strand of your hair,
like a glimpse of you
in your mirror!

Just like a one perfect sway
into the all-encompassing curve
of the ever-smooth, perfect circle
captures the ultimate decimal of pi!

Shall I still caress

him, stroking through his thin hair?


Will it make him bald?

The Spartan women,

sitting on the salty shore --


are combing their hair.