the magic of a fresh cut
i am literally lighter
though not by much
my shoulders have less to lug
my neck has less to nodd
my jaw has less to shake
the dead ends discarded to the floor
some strands sticking to my soft sweater
to be cast later with an enchantment spell
i smile through the curtain at my forehead
good morning untitled
what happens now save every voicemail not that his tone would have been forgotten but to hear him call me tweety as many times as