Every time he leaves she blames herself
So she thinks she has to change herself
Some fundamental part of her identity.
She may change her wardrobe or get a new piercing
But I only ever notice when she changes her hair.
Always shorter. Always darker.
Always reflective of how she views her future in his absence.
And damn everyone who criticizes her.
Loss has overcome her physically and emotionally, so she pulls out the phone book
She lets someone else take out the scissors
She lets someone else do the cutting.
Because she doesn't trust herself anymore
Not the way she used to.
Because she'd rather see her veins littering the floor,
And hear the rush of blood over metal and skin,
But instead she cuts her hair.
Dammit if you don't think that's courage.