Love Is a Gentle Thing, Yours Is Thicker Than a Velvet Ring

--by Linda Dayan

I am Wreathed in a red gown of your care. 
Ruby studs slowly creep from my neck, 

Reluctantly joining the rose lace adorning my chest. 

My arms are wrapped in blood lace, 

So fine no one can see the cuts 

You put so much attention into. 

It is most admirable at my stomach. 

There the incisions are made sharp and deep, 

The blood flows profusely and freely 

Creating the world's first all organic maxi skirt. 

It pools around my feet, 

Hiding the stilettos you gave me, 

The ones your mother gave you,

And her mother gave her. 

The one’s which stop me from running. 

Which force me to stand here in an ocean of myself,

But I cannot find my reflection in my excess. 

When I look down I see someone else. 

I see a girl toying with a magnificent ruby choker,

I see a girl adjusting her real lace sleeves,

I see a girl twisting her rose fabric skirt. 

I see a girl loving her first real heels. 

I see the girl you have always wanted.