my hair
is falling mothballs
in my closet
strands are
ripping from my scalp
like cotton candy
at my fingertips
and it seems
that my body is rejecting
its own appearance
at its own cost
—these strands of hair fall again like I do
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an ocean of teardrops
الشعرI avoid surfaces with reflections, avoid facing reality. At the sea, where I last washed away my scars only to have them appear in different places, different faces. And so I try comforting myself through imaginary conversations with the people I lo...
