My breasts, soft waves saw light at “our first time”,
The tresses at my shoulders, holidays
When I still thought this world to be sublime,
But then, you held another in your gaze...
And how you loved to stroke my pretty locks
And say they’d grown with us and all we planned
But now your secret’s slithered from it’s box,
I sit here, tearful, clippers in my hand...
The steel teeth at my temple, now I know
My lovely hair, with you, has got to go.