It started with my hair.

he hated when I wrote it up
so i left it
long, loose, wild
even as my face got sticky with sweat
under the summer heat

then he turned on other parts of me:

don’t keep the hair on your legs
shave your underarms
oh
what’s going on there?
don’t you care?
it’s better if you shave it,
for me and you,
I swear

i sheared the unwanted strands
and tore out the roots with scalding wax
i clawed at the hair growing under my skin,
blood stained my nails as loathing settled in
when resentment filled the bathtub to the brim
with thick strands of my discarded hair
i said fuck it
and cut him