I love girls who wear only half their hair up. Maybe they ran out of bobby pins.
Maybe they were responding to a specific sensation that only happened on one side of their heads, and pushed their pins right behind their ears, and toward their necks.
Or, maybe they’ve found that their faces are not symmetrical, and out of curiosity (rather than vanity) have stared at themselves in mirrors placed at strange angles, long enough to decide that it’s more beautiful to reflect light into someone’s eyes more like a process than a picture.
Cause girl, you’re not an image, you’re imagism.
You know the relationships between light, time, my eye, and you.
We’re in America, so lets start with your left side:
This is the side your hair is up on. It’s my favorite side. We can see your neck is smooth, but it also makes your ear look sexy. Someone will fall in love with that lobe.
And your temple looks tight, like maybe you read, like actually in black-and-white, read the news every morning, or go places where everyone has tight temples and such poise.
It’s also your manly side, because when I can’t see your right side, your jaw looks strong and you could almost be a very pretty young boy. But when I see your right side, I can see you naked. I can see your hair slipping out of those bobby pins, you slipping out of your spaghetti straps, which are more like capellini straps, more like uncooked capellini straps, which snap and clatter on the floor with your bobby pins.
I don’t want to fuck you, but when I see your right side, specifically after the streak of your jaw-lined left side, someone should come around and snap you out of your dress, prove that you’re not an image, that you can be penetrated.