we sat on your bedroom floor

and I watched as you cut of pieces of your perfect hair with ordinary scissors, even though i said i wish you wouldn’t. all the while you talked of how it felt like trimming memories of your old life, and things you felt like forgetting.
i thought that was nice but when you got in the shower i swept up those lost pieces of you into my pocket because i was scared i would find myself amongst them.

afterward i lay on your bed with your hair in my pocket feeling irrational. when you walked in with your shorter hair and dimmer eyes, i knew i was right.

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