wallflower.

Tag: fashion

  • by a thread

    can you see my heart palpitate? it has to be visible beneath my skin. my pulse has risen to a crescendo, and how can you not hear it? the ivory ribs above the butterflies landing, heavy as hammer pangs, against my heart’s taut strings.

    i tuck love notes and worries and pain into that little coffin– forgive me, the piano’s body is a case, not a tomb, and those notes are intentionally visible. do you know how much my fingers bled prying that weighted lid up? i propped it toward the sky so my heart could always see the moon.

    i didn’t know, as i played, that other people would sit on the bench and thoughtlessly drop their hands onto keys. are the ghosts of their fingers why i’m so out of tune? the freedom and the vulnerability intertwined, always, with my organs displayed.

    but make no mistake– i write only for me, and this is my body, my life. that crescendo is the gorgeous red of a smashed cherry, rose petal, wine stain, and i am alive and aloud as defiance.

    //

    Sweater: Free People

    Skirt: American Eagle

    Tank: American Eagle

    Shoes: Mizz Mouz

    Purse: Baggu

  • trick of the light

    maybe it’s a trick of the light, but i swear i spoke fears into a cold exhale and you held out your palms, catching them midair. tangible ghosts danced in your hands, the color richer each second. i want to know if i’m spectral inside too, a pirouette-sashay-plie soul, or if it’s just my breath like an afterthought. you remind me, you say, ‘you are the fears hopes dreams you breathe, and my skin is just a mirror.’ every shard of you morphs a flat palette into a kaleidoscope– my god, the hues of me i never knew

    alive in you.

    –for d.j.

    //

    Dress: Loft

    Leggings: Aerie

    Belt: Steve Madden

    Cami: American Eagle

    Earrings: FYIE, independent boutique

    Shoes: Miz Mooz

  • To her chagrin

    I went to Chagrin Falls, Ohio for an overnight stay. I carefully planned outfits with

    rhinestones, embroidered socks, teacup earrings, red Mary Janes

    To realize ostensibly I am not made of Mary Janes or a diamond-crusted history

    but know intimately the feeling of walking home in worn-out shoes and hiding holes in favored clothes.

    I play pretend well, I think, when I flip a tag or praise a blouse or walk into work, head high, and the reality is I am displaced, asking

    can wealth be an anachronism like time?

    Maybe my history is why I spent the past day guilt-laced in my $40 boutique top as I cut someone’s hope into confetti, scraps of bills sliced from a starving wallet

    and a human heart making connections is salve, not sum.

    //

    Jacket: Liverpool

    Shirt: Nine West

    Skirt: Draper James

    Boots: Kate Spade