it’s just hair

i have become one
of those women
who expresses herself
through a haircut
her pain and joy
in exchange for
shearers and lost locks
i shed and shed
cut and cut
until i was nothing but
a pixie, airy and light
and for years
happy.
yet not pretty enough
long and lush
i yearned
grew and grew
and now i stand
before myself
bound by my own gaze
long strands gracing
my shoulders
fingers curled around
the warm plastic
of these clippers
a friend who has never
hid in a time of comfort.

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