Brushing of the Hair

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Brushing of the Hair

Cold air punctures my skin goose bumps rise out of protest,
relief as the sensation of a warm towel wrapped around my body appears.
Mist fills the air as I take in the sweet smell of Jarden shampoo hovering within the air.
My hair a tangled forest of vines, as a monster of straight teeth approach the devastation,
cutting a path my tangles disappear slow as I wiggle.
Your legs becoming the fortress holding me until the job is done.
Your voice calm but stern warning when the vines become stuck with the teeth,
slower you go protecting me from the pain.

Knowing there were more monsters to come,
you help me build my own fortress save within in yours,
praying, wishing it would hold.
Each monster brought its own struggle,
each cracked your wall.
Until the day yours cam crumbling down,
and mine was tested against them all.
On my own I see your sacrifice,
the defeat you allowed to happen so I could test my wall
and when it held you were the proudest of them all.

Cold air punchers the skin,
Goose bumps rise out of protest
Innocently I wait bracing for the pain that never comes.





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