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electric blues
He wears it in bed not for comfort
The fabric slinks like something unsent
Lace veils the slit like an afterthought
The blouse is a powder blue lace — gauzy
She Loves Masch Red Set Outerwear electric bluesShe wears red like a theory. Something to be tested, not proven. It swelled around her cape, scarf, confession shifting form as quietly as her convictions did. Sometimes it clung, sometimes it disappeared. She let it decide. The top is not a garment. Its an instinct an answer to questions no one asked aloud. It slips from shoulder to silhouette, becoming what the hour requires: a gesture, a veil, a refusal. The fabric slinks like something unsent,
