Everywhere I go it’s like a part of me is leaving. Am I shedding the old? Or leaving remnants of myself for people? Here, some strands of my hair to remember me by. When you sweep the floor, you will find it and wonder to whom this thick, black wire belongs to and then you’ll remember the girl with the crazy curly hair and go “Ah, her.”
And then? What did I leave you with?
Ah, her…
And then? What did I leave you with?
Ah, her…
*
As I shed these hairs
maybe I leave
a trace
of me;
a thought,
an embrace,
a quiet hello
that you will find:
will you listen?
maybe I leave
a trace
of me;
a thought,
an embrace,
a quiet hello
that you will find:
will you listen?
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