Self Love

By Adwaitha Shankar

I look at my neatly cut tresses,

With admiration;

Which had once carried

Your enamour of me.

I remember the days,

As I sat cosily in your lap,

While you gently entwined your cold fingers,

In the curly locks of my long hair.

You often sniffed in the warm vanilla scent

Off my hair;

As you gently caressed my face

For a passionate kiss,

Filling my body,

With swirls of adrenaline;

I curled up against you,

As your arms held me tighter,

Closer.

You let my hair open,

Every time you saw me,

As each strand curled down my shoulder,

Like a long black cascade;

As though they were awaiting

Your touch.

Your sugar coated words of love,

Often entrapped me,

Curtailed me;

To look past a fear of deceit.

You were not the person,

I saw you to be

You were not the gentleman,

That enchanted me,

Your actions bespoke the truth,

Which my delicate heart

Hadn't hoped for;

A heart that had seeked love.

Now as I look up at the mirror,

I admire;

Those beautiful short locks of hair,

With colors of brown,

Exuding a sense of warmth;

And exuberance

Which I embrace

With all my heart;

A heart that speaks

Of me;

Of self love.

By Adwaitha Shankar