Memories triggered by hairstyles...
I keep seeing you everywhere. The hair I loved so much; I've seen it in cars, in the grocery store, walking down the streets of Baltimore. It's been so long since I've seen you, but today, on the first "hotter" day that we've had in Baltimore, women with your hairstyle were everywhere. That chestnut brown, that curly tangly mess I used to weave my hands through. I knew my straight hair would never do something like that, not even when I got the perm in seventh grade. But yours did it so naturally; I would smile when I'd wake up with it in my face. It didn't inhibit my breathing, as if the strands knew to only tickle me and not strangle me. You would laugh at me when I would bury my face in it; I remember washing it with my shampoo and it brushing my shoulder when you turned around under the water.
Maybe it's him, maybe it's the weather. It's been said I notice men for their eyes and shoulders, and women for their hair. This theorem would explain you and the one you so reminded me of. I don't even know why I have such an affinity for that kind of hair, but I miss it splayed across my pillows.
Who knows what my future holds? Perhaps that chestnut, kinky hair will be splayed over my pillows again...
... and perhaps it'll tangle in my fingers once more.
Maybe it's him, maybe it's the weather. It's been said I notice men for their eyes and shoulders, and women for their hair. This theorem would explain you and the one you so reminded me of. I don't even know why I have such an affinity for that kind of hair, but I miss it splayed across my pillows.
Who knows what my future holds? Perhaps that chestnut, kinky hair will be splayed over my pillows again...
... and perhaps it'll tangle in my fingers once more.