Bent over backwards trying to tame your wildness and failing each time, spectacularly.
Finding a way to slot myself into your life even as you exist so casually, allowing me to build myself around you.
Without me, you will fall undone and yet, you’re somehow so ashamed of me.
My simplicity and tendency to blend in, takes away the panache and the effortlessness of your splendour.
You complain of my nails digging in, leaving you sore.
But if I don’t hold on, that’s my fault too.
Your each fibre finds its way to me and rests like reigns between my legs.
You hate being controlled and so you spread my legs even further apart than they can go, and jam my frame full of yourself.
It’s all about power, isn’t it? I’m dispensable to you and your life.
So replaceable. I’m a dime a dozen to you.
And you’ve lost me and found me more times than you can keep count.
But I still try to make sure you’re put together and your best self, each time you choose to give me one more chance.
I might be just ‘one of them’ to you.
But don’t ever make the mistake of thinking I stopped trying.
A love letter from a hairpin to hair.