Today,
I am wearing
One of my father's old neckties.
I know it might be a red herring
But it reminds me of him,
so I look past all those lies.
It is a pink one,
With silver diamonds scattered.
I think it's rather fashionable
So, caring about others’ hasn't mattered.
I don it with a navy jacket
Just like the ‘ol' days: suit & tie.
I’m not here to make a racket
About it, but just to state a point, I cry!
I am a femme fatale —
Not a butch!
Rose-gold sneakers attire
Or coloured-heels as such.
It always gets a comment,
Sometimes a whistle or two.
I never thought I was attractive,
But these feels...
while I’m wearing them, surely do ensue!
Noted in my Jan 7 poem: "My Father's Paintbrushes" - My dad died in January a couple of years ago. We had a fickle relationship driven by his narcissistic personality and childhood wounds. Sad.