you got all caught up and tangled in your fantasies again 

the same one of you wanting me 

your afrocentric natural wearing beauty queen 

but yet again your fingers ended up in places they did not understand 

you need to know that i never wanted this mess on top of my head 

i wanted it straight to the bone 

painted down my face past the collarbone 

and only the stricken voice of my mother was my hairs saving grace 

because if it were up to me you would not be seeing this face 

with this kind of hair 

these coils would never get fresh air 

or the proper care 

now i am not a perfect provider 

there has been neglect

what you are lusting for now

is built on a lot of past regret  

and heat from the stove 

transferred to the hot comb 

held in one hand 

while the other holding my ear

away from the danger i am meant to fear 

but beaconing for it to come near 

and comb out what i deemed to be too much to bear 

going against the image my skin was meant to wear

you see 

i am quite gifted at being nocturnal 

because those summer nights would fight me and my edges 

and i’d be damned if i got the top of my ear burnt for no good reason 

so a glass of iced cold water would be by my side 

to cool my body 

to tame these curls that were trying to break free 

that were trying to be them 

as i was fighting against being me 

you see i never wanted this 

but now you want this 

because the media told you to want this 

to love this 

but really the curls have to be defined 

but really the coils need to unwind 

but really the edges have to be mixed 

but really the hair can’t be too thick 

but really you can’t walk past any mirror without thinking “this spot right here needs a little fix” 

but don’t get me wrong 

i think it’s cute and all 

i let my curls flourish when they want to behave 

and i give them the space and time to act how they may 

which is a lot due to wash days that can take up 24 hours of the day 

anyway...

i didn’t ask for this 

or want to love it 

but i had to 

you finally choose to 

because your woke-ness told you to 

because those black love narratives carved out pictures for you 

and gave you an orchestra of words to play for me to fall for you 

and i fell on my knees 

wanting to please someone like you 

and that’s when you got all caught up 

of wanting all that before knowing me 

this tender-head has not only been tugged by combs 

it has been meet by your fingers 

in a place they did not know