Poem 84

Braided hairstyle

My Spring Confession

If I could be honest
for a moment,
here’s what I’d say.

I grew my flowers
with only water and sun
and as they died,
never blooming
there came an epiphany
of having grown
eating at myself.

The bulbs grew weak,
unable to stand.

I grew my hair long
and cut it short
for every time
I hated myself
and couldn’t quite
get it past my shoulders
for many years.

My bangs were my shield,
and the short strands,
my ego.

But I’d like a second chance,
cuddle my bulbs with nutrients
they didn’t have
and keep my hair growing,
now past my mid-back.

If it’s alright,
and I think that it is,
we can meet
when my flowers bloom
and I cut my hair short
because it’s Summer.

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