prom
I am wearing my high school prom dress. scarlet letter red to my ankles. mesh. strapless. simple. it zips to the middle of my back and stops there. ten years later my chest is the one major change.
returning to chicago, the fit of this dress. I linger over it, the comparison.
it is a beautiful dress. the material hugs me close, smooth on my bare skin. I wore flowers in my hair that night, a boy who loved me did not know how to touch me without his hands shaking. my own hands now shake unzipping it, putting it back in the closet, saying go to sleep, I cannot think about these things now. but I cannot leave yet.
all of it aching into my head, the memories I cannot box up, the present I cannot live in without shrieking.
that beautiful dress
that doesn't quite fit anymore.
returning to chicago, the fit of this dress. I linger over it, the comparison.
it is a beautiful dress. the material hugs me close, smooth on my bare skin. I wore flowers in my hair that night, a boy who loved me did not know how to touch me without his hands shaking. my own hands now shake unzipping it, putting it back in the closet, saying go to sleep, I cannot think about these things now. but I cannot leave yet.
all of it aching into my head, the memories I cannot box up, the present I cannot live in without shrieking.
that beautiful dress
that doesn't quite fit anymore.