I used to sit and watch my lover’s sister meticulously untying the knots in her long, dark hair. It was a long process of untangling, as I was also busy untangling myself from him; each knotted lock one of the shackles that was binding us together.
In the end, he took a pair of old metal scissors and severed off his hair, giving it to me as a gift. Still heavy with his scent, I placed the tail in a box, then cut mine off and lay it down alongside – a little mausoleum to our love.