The Silk Trap of Modern Solitude
They told me this kimono would make me look like a dream,
Cinderella’s Coach
The Art of Performing Innocence
I’ve spent three hours perfecting this 'spontaneous' spin in
The Commuter's Quiet Desperation
I stand on this platform, a living advertisement for youth and purity
The Cost of Being an Angel in the Concrete Jungle
I’ve mastered the art of looking like I was born from
The Linen Alibi for Longing
I’m wearing ivory linen—the official uniform of women who want
Mint-Flavored Isolation on the 42nd Floor
I’m wearing a dress that looks like it was spun from
The Nocturne of Calculated Longing
I’ve been playing this Chopin piece for twenty minutes, not because
Synthetic Warmth and the Art of Holding On
I am clutching this polyester bear with a desperation that would be
The Scent of Salt and Planned Obsolescence
I’ve spent three years in a glass tower where the air
The Satin Trap of Domestic Bliss
I’ve spent ten hours today pretending to be a functioning member
The Liquid Lie of Urban Intimacy
They call this 'healing.' I’m sitting in a glass
The High Cost of Sun-Kissed Serenity
I’m standing here in a black bikini that costs more than
