I've decided
to let my hair grow out,
just for you.
To cut
even a single strand
would be
to lose that much
of a lovely memory
of your hands
caressing, kissing,
running through
my hair like a meadow.
I couldn't
bear the thought.
I feel
like a little girl,
free,
indifferent to
society's expectations
and the upkeep
of deceiving
appearances.
With my arms
stretched
high
I can
nearly
touch
the sky.
Oh, how
you make me feel.

…Of course I haven't shaved my legs.
Haven't you heard a word of what I've said?

(Romantic notions are for
bald-faced liars
and people who get bikini waxes
to laugh at.)

TMK 7aug2007