bring her the sun

burning ashes

I've lost many versions of myself,

or rather shed many version of her

Being a rather nostalgic person,

constantly perusing my hoarded photo collection often reminds me,

I see a different girl every year

Most people don't change much, 

maybe a simple hair color change or a hair cut

It seems to me every new color weaved into my locks

marks a new version of her

The difference perhaps- 

I can see her weighted mind and heart in each photo

I can see the new stress lines on her forehead,

the traumas accumulating behind her ocean eyes

I can see the old version being suffocated by her replacement

indeed,

She only changes her hair when she is ready for the kill-

ruthless

Being a rather nostalgic person,

perusing my hoarded collection of memories,

my lover only sees a new hair-do

my friends only see a new outfit

my parents only see a smile,

but I see exactly which version of her exists and simultaneously breaks inside,

and consequently

all the versions of her she has had to kill,

whose ashes sit charred behind her greying irises...