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WHAT I MISSED
Running my hand through her soft hair was
What I did when I spent hours with her.
The dark hair fell in waves
Till her waist
Reminding me of the sea that
I always feared
How come I missed the clue?
That she could be fearsome and beautiful
All at once.
A perfect bun is what I tried, she would some days explain
But this is what came out of my entire try
She says, pointing at the messy bun.
Now I recognize with a chill
Like the hair that never stood at place
She had a soul chasing dreams
That can’t help but break
What stops her own race.
Her hair was black at the roots
Light brown at the ends
And a beautiful golden under the Rising Sun.
The black blending to brown.
Brown blending to golden.
Simply like her I must admit
Lines blurred and erased
Smudged and redrawn
A girl who lived life
On her own terms.
What I didn’t notice then
Is what I miss now.
Given that she’s all gone
Running my hand through her soft hair was
What I did when I spent hours with her…
Yet it’s humiliating to admit
How little I knew
How she was…
Or rather who she was.
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Continue with your inspiration
Previously I wrote about eyes and now about hair. can you notice a pattern? :)