Being Unwanted as Memoir of a Dress Slid Off
My organs are organza,
my greetings chiffon.
He liked me when he saw me I think,
except he seemed to peer right through me.
Her entire point in having me
was to turn heads with me and then discard me.
Tonight they will both have what they want,
the sun having set and the blinds drawn
so the neighbors don’t exist.
It will be quiet. I know her.
It will be forgettable. I know him.