I don't like realizing
That I was hurt in the same
Cliche way
Everyone has been

"Heartbroken"
Such a pathetic term

But how else can you describe it?

A twist of the knife?
A bee sting to the chest?
A bomb in your stomach?

She
Is a woman of war

Heartbreak takes hostages
That are often never freed

But I will not be one of them

A boy will not
Cannot
Ruin me

I picked up the phone
Ecstatic to hear from you

But the sobs that echoed turned my joy to stone

You begged me to come get you
Said you couldn't go home

So my dad and I jumped in the car
Hurtling through the dark to find you

And thankfully we did

You didn't say much as you climbed in
Only tried to stop your tears from flowing

You were quiet
But at least you were there
And not standing on that streetcorner
With nobody to call

People tell me they love my curls
They're messy, frizzy, and spirited
Never tame or smooth
They remind me of myself in that way

It's funny though
How people love my curls
Until we have a dance
Or a concert

And then
The straightening requests begin

They always do

Almost as if
My hair isn't fit for a fancy event

No matter how much gel I use
My curls don't cooperate
The same way others' do

Does that mean they shouldn't be seen?
Should my curls be crushed with heat?

The older I get
The more it's starting to seem that way