Taking Out My Braids

Each time it rained,

I wore my hood

in defeat, to protect my braids.

The twisted trees inquired,

why the long face? Afraid,

I decided to kick rocks.

I should turn and ask,

was our love nothing but a trade,

your smile for all I had?

In this empty room I call home,

I understand our love is now strained,

and now my socks are wet.

Why did I get braids?

2 strands would have worked

but 3 tight was what I wanted.

I retrieved my grandmother's rattail comb,

grabbed my phone and watched Grey's

The mirror stares back.

The journey of unraveling my

damaged, kinky hair was treacherous,

but who am I to say?

I stare at my hair undone yet tangled

in a desperate attempt to stay

intertwined forever- just like me.

Each time it rained,

and this time I uncovered my crown

ready to be embraced.

The twisted trees watched

as I washed all I had left of us. Unafraid,

I danced.