Hair-cut

Sometimes I find it hard to breathe

Hard to see when I’m choking on chunks of tangled blonde hair

Strayed across my face 

Invading my mouth 

And sticking to my lips.

The brush of my tongue turns them glossy and pink 

Exposing a new layer, provoking a kiss,

Only to invite pain in,

Swallowed too soon

I wish I would have known.

That night there were scissors 

Placed next to my dusty mirror 

My roommate laid at rest 

With screaming thoughts, I couldn’t hear her. 

I craved her placidity 

I searched for validity 

But my actions don’t seem worthy of an explanation. 

Those shiny metal blades

Were instant gratification 

Just another attempt at a recreation 

Of the same broken mind 

Lost identification 

I ripped my barriers from the roots 

I just wanted to see 

Left scattered strands of it 

On the bathroom floor

Surrendered to my thoughts

To the girl next door

See, it’s never really over;

You’re never really sober

Remnants still found beneath my desk

Weeks later 

When it was time for housekeeping.