I climbed this mountain today, remembering a time that seems so long ago.
The sheets wrap around me like linen on a body laid in state in front of the masses quietly mourning the loss of a soul once brought to life because of you.
My room is a tomb, cold, without life or light, sitting alone. No perfumes adorn my neck, no iron has worked through my hair. I lay here in jammies made only for warmth, remembering a time when I laid here next to you.
The tulle skirt lies crumpled on the floor a heap on top of the lacy top. My shoes were picked specifically for the twirling and dancing we used to do. The roses you bought, still in their vase now wilting, petals falling one by one as if forgetting they used to be part of something beautiful, lovely. With each loss the once whole flower now becomes a broken husk that someone remembers once had beauty.
The tears begin anew like the rain pelting coldly outside. I don’t know if I’ll make it today, so I close my eyes and descend the hill back into my bed, maybe tomorrow I’ll crest this sorrow and escape this sadness.
I was traipsing around various stores, loving all the things. Tops, rompers, jumpsuits, sun dresses.
I love that the sun excites me about stepping outside in that cute lacy tunic, hair not frizzy, makeup actually works and feeling like people around me see me as I feel.
The feeling comes so seldom, I have to write about it as soon as my mind agrees with my mirror!
I’ve often wondered what it was that magically transforms my feelings about me.
It’s the shoes. Actually, it’s the heels!
They’re sometimes impractical, slightly not comfortable and mostly not for non gymnasts like me, but I love how they look on my feet. I even love walking into my closet and just staring at them imagining how they will look with my outfits that week!
I love that the right pair of shoes transforms my outfit from chic to lustrous. The perfect accessory is the right shoes. The little straps, chunky heel, cute toes, they all make it pop.
When it pops right I feel amazing.
Is it okay to admit this? I feel that society sometimes pressures me (us) not to be beautiful, to fit in and not to pop. I love shoes, I do, and I guess I’m not going along with the pressure. Beauty is a thing and I love to feel beautiful.
I wake in the morning and feel lost without my lace.
Silk wakes my soul like a flower blooming after a spring rain.
Satin around my skin envelops like the steam rising from a warm coffee on a cold morning.
This dress wraps me like a rich foliage basking by a churning brook, each movement intertwines my whole self in beautiful color.
I feel awake, removed from the slumber that confined my personality before bathing myself in this delicate pleasure.