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Rated: E · Poetry · Relationship · #1229671
About shaving my head of the blonde hair someone else wanted to see me with
I go in alone, just like I did with you,
with my platinum head & my jumbled brain fried,
and my childish, frightened eyes tucked away.
She asks me what I want,
and with no second toughts, I say,
"Shave it Off!"
She smiles as if she knows and goes searching for her tools,
And then she comes at me with kind hesitation and asks me if I'm sure.
"Yes" I say, and off it flew.

With every stroke of the tingling steel,
Off flies a piece of you.
Off shoots the time you assured me that blonde would be soooo cute,
Half my head remains as my short nails claw the cushy chair,
As I glance down at my feet, plastered with a stranger's hair.
Every inch taken off leaves more room for the air to hit my skull,
And the strain glued tight to my head seems to have come undone.

She pauses before she chops that last chunk of gold.
I open one eye and a tear runs down my cheek.
But she continues on and slices off the last piece,
and the last reason left to stay
And I tip her good,
Because she's taken you away.
© Copyright 2007 Juniper (spryflyer at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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