I pushed away

One dress after another…

None of them was ‘The One’

…I was looking for me.

 

If a dress were me

How would it look?

What threads would tell my story?

What moments would weave together as warp and weft?

 

And what colours and textures

Would reflect the age of my mind?

Which anecdotes would be printed?

How would it embrace my body?

 

I don’t like tight hugs any more.

I don’t want my breasts cupped

Or my buttocks grabbed

Or my form sculpted.

 

I no longer desire to be desired

I wish for silence and an ease of being

A place by your side

Loved, adored, admired, trusted.

 

I now like to maintain

A respectful distance

My relationships must stand the test of time

The truly beautiful is never a trend.

 

I find nothing up for grabs

Calibrated and cut

To the dimensions of my being

Except for this beautiful silk stole…

 

It’s light as air

I wrap it around me

And it engulfs me like an aura

I smile…

 

In and through it

I catch a glimpse of my Self

How deep is my need

To be visible, to be freed, to be true.

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