There she goes again with that dumb hat.
She did her hair first and then she put on that dumb hat…again.
Does she want me to pay for her hair? She can’t think it’s sexy. It covers her eyes. I love her eyes. It hides her long thick hair. I love her hair. I imagine having her hair sewn into a blanket I can wrap myself in. She puts a hoodie over that beautiful frame. She throws sweats on and she falls into “comfort” but I can’t find her in the layers of fabric. There are already so many layers to her. When I peel back one, I notice the next, and each time I peel I find something new to fall in love with or temporarily hate. She’s an anomaly. She’s a walking talking anomaly. She is proof of God’s sense of humor. She was made out of perplexities and unrealistic expectations and …humility. She’s a body of water moving freely through her own veins. Water instead of blood. She gives life to herself and still praises something greater than herself.
I can’t see her eyes. How will I know if she is listening to me? How will I know she can hear my heart beating? How will she see the footnotes at the heel of my thoughts with giant asterisks that only she is disciplined enough to notice and read?
How will I know if there are tears I need to wipe away?
I hate that stupid ass hat.
(Woman enters the room. Just got dressed. Freshly showered and in her “favorite hat”)
Woman: Hey babe. How do I look?
Man: You look beautiful. I like your hat.
By: Shaun Liriano