She's taking a part away.
Yours is down the middle
and she wants it different.
All the same you want her -
scissors in her hand or buzzer.
You look past the mirror to a time when
you are:
waiting for her outside the bathroom
in the library trying hard to look at a book
to think of something to say next
trying to run your hand through your hair
along the side
or down at the nape
wanting to be natural like the pee coming from her
on the other side of the door
On this side of the bathroom door, in this day you want
to know
Will it find its way back to the way it was?
Will it know?
Will it drop on pillows strand by strand?
And on whose?
And?
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