The strands tangle and twist
As if my finger,
Is the center of a tiny universe
Of interlocking twining twirling black
With a simple twist and snap
Are ripped,
Star crossed lovers
Every Romeo to his Juliet
Are rip, rip, ri-torn apart
The hair from the hair tie
Yet,
Like tentacles clinging on
A stubborn slug, repulsive
Yet in an obscure manner
Admiringly persistent
It continues to hold on
Like a lizard regrows it’s tail
Impossible,
To truly chop off
So too does the hair insist
Upon an adamant refusal to separate
As if hair and tie are one
Interlocked
In a ferocious battle... Or,
Perhaps, a passionate embrace?
Are they one?
Whether it be so or not
I decide not to bother
Why, should I take up the mantle
Of the evil stepmother, wicked witch, cruel king...
You name it
To separate the two, lovers or competitors
They maybe
Why insist,
Upon what will never
Come true,
At least,
In the case of any proper Disney fairy tale
Is what I tell myself,
throwing down the hair tie
In favor of writing poetry about it
