i love laying my hair on my chest.
i love blowing out and watching the hairs quiver.
i love making poems that rhyme.
i love poetry that makes me cry a river.
i love running my fingertips through my thick, café au lait hair
and letting the strands drop one by one.
i love imagining all you people who did me wrong.
i love imagining them as every single wisp of hair.
and boy, do i love watching them fall.
it will teach them to think twice before crossing me.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
{2} never alone.
Poesía"...we're hopelessly complicated and beautifully entwined, maybe we're ignorantly emancipated and selfishly try to prove it wrong..." lowercase intended.
