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Hyunhye Seo


June 11, 2021

From Hyunhye Seo

I’m exposed by the hair that falls from me in long, dark and grotesque trails.

It’s impossible to pretend I wasn’t where I’ve been.

They’re on pillows I shouldn’t have slept on and on chairs when I linger too long.
They used to shake out onto dance floors, but I don’t go dancing anymore. Not lately.
They’re reminders of all that I’ve been and shouldn’t have and maybe won’t be again.

Sometimes I don’t even notice how they tangle around everything I own. Other times, I’m mortified to find them spreading under my toes.
No matter how I coil them upon my head with the utmost care, they still fall, mocking the restraint I impose, beg for, then abandon.

Are they still a part of me if they fall off me? What if I don’t want them anymore? Who cares?! I didn’t want to grow them anyways!

You may not remember me, but you’re sure to find a strand of me long after you’ve forgotten.