Poetry

i spy

i spy a forgotten dress,
drapped over an off-white
mannequin with only one hand.
frills and bows, tulle and
a stubbed noes, these dresses
seem more like ghosts;
hovering over the living and
begroaning their forsaken
fate. forgotten but found,
i spy a kaleidoscope of
butterflies woven into
a moth eaten gown… 👗

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2 thoughts on “i spy”

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