by Chloé Dinae

You grew.
I didn’t understand the beauty.
I didn’t understand the oils that were needed to extend you
or, how I needed to cleanse the roots to release my pain, my soul.
I failed to listen to your strands—at times blinded by heat.
You attracted many suitors- some weak and some strong but they all became dead ends.
They leaked expectations from the scalp.
With maintenance I’d grow too.
Learning to nourish the depth,
becoming introspective to discover the patterns invested in you,
When I cut the ends, my ancestors dreams fell into my lap,
looking at you.
The very nature of the coils
were representative of my mind.
Overtime, some were heat shy, spring curls, waves swaying, fly away strands.
I wanted all of you—a representative of my lovers.
To show I lived my dreams,
I save your strands to show my vulnerability—
Not to please
but to invest in me.