WHAT I’M WEARING: LLUNAA WAFFLE STRUCTURED DRESS
an alone poem, a summer poem
Structured white, sunset light, pink flowers against a dark bush that droop bright.
Red lips drawn too large, messy hair brushed back clean and skin glowing under the sun’s closing sheen.
There are 90 days of summer and this is number sixteen…counting seventy four more summer scenes.
Summer is alive, astir, awake and I am alone, but not lonely – these two words sit tight but there is a big in-between.
You see, I have me – and flowers like these and a sun that seers through me clean. The warm season breaks open this in-between,
no clouds or icy grey to stare and demean, winter is lonely; a solitary, evil ravine but summer sets me free, alone and all I need.
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