An Ode to My Favorite Black Dress

To my favorite black dress,


I'm sorry that I cannot bear to wear you anymore

Stares collected, comments made,

My skin prickles with disgust.


I’m sorry that your hem touches the tick above my knee

The one that marks lewd comments and sexual fantasies as warranted

The one that announces to those around me that I am, in fact, deviant.

Image source: Unsplash

I’m sorry that you hang there in the corner watching me

Everyday I escape the spell that you cast which

Allows those around me to devour secretly without consent.


I'm sorry that my tolerance was weaker than I thought

Their voices holler and intrude into my mind

I pedal fast, wind whips my hair and my eyes water.


I’m sorry that my figure is a public spectacle

Those who wish to grope it, bite it, yell as I speed past

My legs burn, pedaling faster, hair ripping from my scalp.


I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry

Because no matter how many times I lift you off of the hanger

The voices yell louder

And I leave you hanging.

Image source: Unsplash