like my first haircut

when we met, my shift key wasnt working
and i couldnt pronounce my <3s properly.
when we met i was chipped nail polish,
chipped teeth, and chipping acrylic skin.
i had chicken pox scars. i had other itches.

for a reputation, i was the-girl-whose-braids-
have-been-pulled-too-many-times-
she-is-a-whore. when we met, you pulled
my hand. my hair was down,
and you pulled on that too.

when the focus was just right
i was the girl whose genetics were made up
of hereditary hemorrhages and lack of cultivation.
i was the girl who ate cookies too fast
and had too many crumbs stuck to her tonsils.

when i met you, it was kinda like the-air-
sucks-here-but-i-dont-have-enough-money-
to-live-anywhere-else-let-alone-breathe-
somewhere-else-let-alone-be-happy-somewhere-else.
it was kinda like i-should-leave-i-really-should.

we were blood tests and pregnancy tests
and blood samples i didnt really want to give.
we were hyphens and in-betweens. we were
periods that ended nights with "i love you" --
no, we were the sentences that HAD endings.

when i met you, it reminded me of my past. it reminded me
of my first haircut, when i was kicking and screaming and crying
and begging, please no, i dont want change. please
dont change me. the hairdresser just laughed.
meeting you meant complete transformations in my life.

i had broken fingernails, broken bones
in between my teeth, and really, i was
my own paint gallery of broken palettes.
i look at the clipping of hair in my baby book
from my first haircut, and i'm reminded of you.