Thursday, August 15, 2013

Hair.



June 5, 2011
Hair was his favorite; it fascinated him and aroused his senses. His strong hands loved to stroke the gentle fine waves that cascaded down her head. He didn’t do this often – he feared she would be upset – but he wanted to. She knew it. Her intoxicating smell would surround her hair, like a warm aura. She would move her head so her hair would catch the light just right, she would tease him by pulling it over her shoulder and running through it with her fingers, or allow it to rush away from her face as she clumsily ran. Occasionally, she would braid the hair out of her face, and tie it in a messy knot on the back of her head. She didn’t want the hair to get in his mouth when he kissed her, she didn’t want him to see her hair; she wanted him to see her.
He came back to her and her broken heart, only half of what she was before. She wanted him to go away, yet she wanted him to be attracted to her. She wanted him to see her. She took the scissors to her hair, and watched as the beautiful waves cascaded to the floor.

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