my most distinguished feature |
I was born with it, a cap— soft and dark as feathers on a baby bird. the sunlight gives it fire, reds comingled with the brown— there are streaks of grey now, framing my face with the caress of moonlight. it grew with me, a plume protruding from a warrior’s helm, twisting down me so long— a security blanket. I tucked it in my pants with my shirt, and when I tossed my head, it whipped about, the momentum of a scorpion’s sting striking without warning. I cut it— it springs into a nest of curls, that tickles the edges of my sight. I pull at it, measuring it’s length against the end of my nose, and I giggle, cross-eyed— happy. line count: 30 author's note: it is my hair. Prompt ▼ |