My hair is longer now - much longer than you’d have liked,
it curls around my rib cage like ivy,
and I think of this now and again
when it gets stuck in the door of the car
or beneath his elbow while we’re sleeping,
and I don’t mind it and neither does he.
You would have,
it might have gotten in the way at some
critical juncture when our bodies were meeting,
briefly, in a fervor of rushed expectations,
behind doors that were forbidden to be closed.
That’s all that ever really mattered to you.
I’m sure you’ve indulged
in all the things I hated about you -
the way you laughed at the stupidest jokes
and couldn’t keep to yourself when I was away;
I realized too late I was only being toyed with,
but I remember how hard you cried when I left.