How I Found Out I'm Allergic to Hair Dye
I went to sleep the moment I gave up on him
It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last
We already had a long, complicated history together
A long history that mostly involved him standing me up
I fell asleep the moment I realized he wasn't going to show
Then, I awoke abruptly, bolting upright -
He arrived - just a few hours late.
He was a terrifying, strange, and wonderful sight
His hair was dyed a surreal, vulgar shade of magenta
And his hands were still stained with the dye.
And I didn't tell him that I had given up on him
But maybe he knew
We talked for hours, and when it became inevitable that we would kiss,
He kissed me, and it took me completely by surprise
Because... in all my years of knowing him, I honestly never dreamed
That he could ever look at me like I was someone he wanted.
He whispered to me, "I want you to know,
This isn't completely emotionless for me.
I care about you. Very much."
He kissed me again, and I smiled, content to give up on him. Again.
At least in this way.
At least, for a while.
And when I woke up,
I was aching, in more ways than one,
And covered in raw patches where my skin used to be
I woke up the deep, pink color of pain.
1 Comments:
Based on a true story.
If this piece confuses you, just read the title again, and I think you'll get it.
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