you gifted me scissors and i never knew what to make of them, until now

✂ cut my hair real short so i’d have less to dye red, with the same scissors used for those paper hearts i snipped in half; yes, those words we pinned with our photographs are scattered in perfect edged pieces along my bedroom floor.

✂ can’t regift scissors ’cause i can barely stand looking at them, seems only fair to destroy our life together with them; perhaps, you’d understand the irony too (if i cared enough to ask you).