little black dresses

she would like to be witty when it matters
she wishes she did not just not stumble - stutter...
shuffle along
a grown woman
lost in whimsical hopes
and meaningless hyperbole
she secretly owns a little black dress, or four
that's right four - she feels defensive inside
but she's really not
her broken heart is sewn together with barbed wire
she might be jaded, a little
jaded with her little black dresses
hung neatly in her closet...
or maybe now they have fallen to the floor
she thinks of the season, she thinks of the sun
in her dreams
the dresses turn to yellow
and she puts one on and twirls
she wears it out to play
lost in her whimsical hopes
and meaningless hyperbole