#split poetry

But instead she was an anchor, always dragging him down"

You have no idea what a "strong woman" is

so I would appreciate if you would stop telling me

that I need to change who I am. 

The woman you describe is a slave,

a woman who lives to serve her husband,

who comes at his every beck and call.

And that is not me.

It will never be me again. 

I lived that life for fifteen years

and I'm not going back. 

A relationship is not male dominated,

it is teamwork

it is working together and being best friends

it is love

and a mutual understanding of the other

So, again,

stop telling me to be "strong".

I AM strong

I wasn't thinking about myself

as I took the scissors to my hair

and watched

as long, black tendrils of my hair tumbled into 

the milky white basin. 

I saw past my reflection,

past the sad girl who stared back at me

with her brown eyes,

and instead found myself staring into 

your blue eyes. 

"Do it," you urged.

And I did.

I listened to your silent goading, thinking

only of the conversation we had a few weeks ago.

You said you missed my bangs,

wanted them back

And so, with still fingers and a shaking heart,

I sliced away my beautiful hair