Alcyone

Never Cross the Dotted Line
2002-10-04 01:52:00 (UTC)

The Dress

I tried on your dress today....

I found it buried under years of dust permeated with the
soft scents of age and mothbolls. Your purfume still clung
to a few precious fibers of air. It faded when I opened
the chest. Your chest, the one that's a tangled mass of
whicker...I opened it the other day. I slid the soft silk
folds of the dress I found over my head...down my body.

I missed you.

The dress fit a little different today. A little tighter in
the bosom...it flared a little wider in the hips, and the
sholder-span broadened.

It made me miss you even more.

Now that the dress fit differently.

I remembered the story you told me about...the one with the
girl and the glass slipper. I felt like her today. Only
they were your slippers I was wearing.

I cried today...putting on your dress. It made me think of
you.

I miss you.




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