My bright eyes open quickly when I realize that the door to the closet has been unlocked. The Hand appears, my heart skips a couple beats, but then the tiny black dress, who reeks of too many parties, lavishly swishes her way out. I glance down at my dark purple frame, decked with small milky pearls, trailing like miniature streams. Am I not good enough? Every now and then The Hand trails my soft skin, but quickly decides on someone with less volume, much like the small dark dress who waits beside me. Once I was worn so very often. I saw wonderful sights and felt most beautiful. Young dark suits, offering a hand, and taking me out to the dance floor. We were graceful, free, and marvelous. We turned heads with our passion and energy. But now I sit in the closet, waiting for the moment when The Hand slides me gently off my hanger and takes me to the ballroom once again. Ah… what is this? I hear her voice and I do believe I hear my name mentioned…
Copyright 2009 by TheVanillaBee
I love it! Possibly one of my favorites from your writings =)
ReplyDeletewow.
ReplyDeleteVery interesting, had to read it twice, no ytterbium? :P
ReplyDeleteHaha... yeah, no ytterbium this time =P
ReplyDeleteI actually like this style of writing a lot more... tisn't poetry though.
Wow what, Asa?
Woah! I LOVE it! It's fantastic. Interesting perspective :) I look forward to reading more!
ReplyDeletewow as in it was amazing. i mean really. seriously. i wish you could hear the tone in my voice.
ReplyDelete