I held up that grand quilt in my tiny hands, thoughts rushing past my mind.

That denim piece splattered with red paint,
ah, remember when you wore that for the first time as you picked carrots with Dad?

That cotton piece filled with a vibrant orange,
how could you forget? That was the dress you wore to your first ever play recital.

That baby pink rayon piece,
you wore that on the first day of high school, you could not forget.

That grey wool piece,
that was your Christmas present, and you wore it near the fire. You spilled hot coco on it.

That rare purple leather,
that is too important to forget. Remember, it was the jacket you wore on you first date.

That blue flannel piece,
you loved that one. You wore it all the time, ever since the first time you wore it when you won “best speaker” at a school competition.

That brown cupro piece,
you wore that to your mother's birthday, the one where she got promoted to L.A.

That green polyester piece,
never can forget, could you? That was the shirt you wore when Dad and Mom divorced.  

That white lyocell piece,
you wore it at your graduation party, and your whole family was there.

That barkcloth piece,
it was a day to remember, you united with you brother once again in that dress.

That calico piece,
you wore that to the hospital when Granddad got a heart attack.

That black and white damask piece,
that was so beautiful, so you kept it for your dinner. Which you hadn't realized was your engagement dinner with your boyfriend.

That red gingham piece,
wow, that was the time you met your dad's girlfriend. And Mom had not moved on.

That black lace piece,
a day never to forget. It was the funeral of your Granddad’s, and that was the dress you wore.

That grey gauze piece,
it was the shawl you wore when you visited your grandma, and found out she was ill of depression.

That amazing white gazar piece,
a memorable day. It was the dress you wore to you wedding.

That turquoise silk piece,
too soon after your wedding. It was the part of the purse you took to your Grandma's funeral. *

That white and blue jacquard fabric,
that was the fabric you had for your curtains, when you moved into your own house.

That leopard print intarsia piece,
it was an amazing day. Your mother visited you the first time in your new home. The both of you cried with the rain pouring outside. Nothing could have ruined that beautiful moment together, united.

That satin cobalt blue piece,
that dress you wore to the dinner with your parents and husband. Only to later realize that you brother had met with an accident.

That exotic lantana piece,
you remember, don't you? You wore that dress when you met your brother days later, severely hurt.

That red lace piece,
you went to London with your husband wearing that. You were so excited.

That madras piece,
it came from that cushion out of the four your husband bought you.

That cream organdy piece,
your mother had found it in her closet, a dress from her mother's, and wanted to give it to you.

That deep purple paisley piece,
you wore that on the day your mother died.*

And like that, all the thoughts came back to me. All the pieces of my past, fit in together. But it never made sense – that was how my life worked. And there were more pieces, more parts, to fit together, until my life was spread out in front of me. Like a patched quilt.

I remember it like yesterday
50 years back, more or less
She was singing with an old guitar
She wore a faded yellow dress

She sang songs about rebellion
of love and hate and less
She was singing with an old guitar
She wore a faded yellow dress

She lit up the world
In 1971
She burned bright as a comet
She was there, and then...was done

The bar was almost empty
Most nights it was I guess
She was singing with an old guitar
She wore a faded yellow dress

I remember when she saw me
We connected, I confess
She was singing with an old guitar
She wore a faded yellow dress

She lit up the world
In 1971
She burned bright as a comet
She was there, and then...was done

Word spread out about her
She was primed to have success
She was singing with an old guitar
She wore a faded yellow dress

An agent came and watched her
A low life lizard known as Jess
She was singing with an old guitar
She wore a faded yellow dress

She lit up the world
In 1971
She burned bright as a comet
She was there, and then...was done

Promises were made to her
She heard his pitch, and she said yes
She was singing with an old guitar
She wore a faded yellow dress

I saw her climb the charts that year
She was a shell, a real hot mess
She no longer had an old guitar
She now wore hot pants, not a dress

She lit up the world
In 1971
She burned bright as a comet
She was there, and then...was done

You could see she was a puppet
A golden goose for lizard Wes
She no longer had an old guitar
She now wore hot pants, not a dress

I heard she died, an overdose
I wasn't shocked, I must confess
They buried her in Hollywood
She wore a faded yellow dress

She lit up the world
In 1971
I remember her old guitar
And her faded yellow dress

She wore yellow shoes on her wedding day,
They reminded her of the sun,
She wore a blackened garter,
To remind her of what he'd done,

She wore a deep green eye pencil,
To remind her of meadows true,
Red upon her cheeks so pale,
Enlightened her eyes cold blue,

She wore a clinging silken gown,
Caressing her curvy form,
The brightest white, as white as snow,
That glistened in the dawn,

Around her neck a silver chain,
As silver as her hair,
She sat alone, elegantly,
In her old dusty armchair,

Fifty years had passed away,
Like the flight of an albatross,
Her shoulders weighted heavily,
As she carried her burdened cross,

For on that day, her wedding day,
She waited and waited more,
He never showed, and left her there,
He'd left her alone once more,

She stared into the looking glass,
As her life had passed her by,
But every May, she wore the dress,
And a tear fell from her eye,

She wore yellow shoes on her wedding day,
They reminded her of the sun,
And now the blackened garter,
Lay on the floor undone.

With their new awards show - VH1 Big In 2015 with Entertainment Weekly - the network aimed to 'highlight the trailblazers and epic pop culture moments of the year.'

So it was no surprise then that Taraji P. Henson, 45, was one of the program's honorees for her unforgettable work as Cookie Lyon on Fox's smash hit Empire.

Taraji looked stunning as she arrived at Pacific Design Center in West Hollywood, California on Sunday for the celebration, flashing some skin in a fitted black Alexander **** dress.

Taraji wore a sleeveless, black dress for the event that hugged the Fox star's curves while showing off her toned pins.

The flattering number also featured a laced-up, cut-out along the side of the dress that added some edge to the look with a flash of skin.

She coupled the look with a pair of studded, strappy black heels, and donned a pair of dramatic, dangling earrings.

She showed off bold eyeliner for the event, as well as big lashes and a complimentary mauve lipstick.

Taraji's brunette tresses were styled in gorgeous, wild curls, and the actress looked to be in good spirits as she hit the carpet, showing off a big grin and at one point even blowing a kiss.

Amy Schumer was also being honored at the event after her stellar year that included the success of her comedy Trainwreck.

The 34-year-old smoldered in a form-fitting red gown, which she coupled with a pair of coordinating red pumps.

The flattering number featured three-quarter length sleeves and was fitted to show off the comedian's trim figure.

She wore her long, blonde tresses styled straight for the show, and showed off a smoky eye and a dark manicure.

Amy was joined on the carpet by her sister Kimberly Schumer, who wore a sleeveless, bright blue mini dress that showed off her toned pins.

She coupled the playful frock with a pair of strappy, black heels, and wore her long, brunette locks in soft curls.

Amber Rose, 32, put her ample assets on display in a figure-hugging mini dress as she arrived at the Pacific Design Center.

The model wore a long-sleeved black mini dress which featured a plunging front and also highlighted her toned pins.

She coupled the daring number with a pair of strappy, black heels, and hid her eyes behind over-sized, black sunglasses.

Pitch Perfect 2 director and star Elizabeth Banks, 41, wore a textured black dress with a semi-sheer skirt and bow-shaped cut-out along the front.

The eye-catching dress hit at just above the actress's knees, and she coupled the look with strappy, peep-toe black heels.

She accessorized with a coordinating, black clutch, and wore her long, blonde tresses pulled back into a chic updo, with curled, wisps of hair falling around to frame her face.

Queen Latifah, 45, and Katherine Bailess, 35, both opted for stylish, black jumpsuits for the awards show, though the former wore long sleeves while the latter opted for a one-shoulder look.

Katherine finished off her look with a pair of peep toe heels that showed off a dark pedicure, and wore her long, blonde locks in soft waves.

She accessorized with a pair of dangling earrings, and added a pop of color to her look with a bright red lipstick.

Parks And Recreation alum Aubrey Plaza, 31, stunned in a form-fitting, white mini dress that featured metallic embellishments, and she coupled it with chunky, black heels.

Elle King, 26, meanwhile, was a bit more colorful in a pretty floral dress, though she added a bit of edge to her look with a black, leather jacket.

Master of None star Aziz Ansari, 32, looked dapper in a fitted, black suit worn with brown leather oxfords and a bright, pink patterned tie.

T.I. - host for the VH1 and Entertainment Weekly event - looked stylish in an all-black ensemble that he accessorized with Aviators and a bold, silver necklace.

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He wore blue, and she wore white
Keeping the true, the more, under their hide.
Looking as empty, they just don't bother
To discover the fact that they were meant for each other.

And, oh, do they met one day.
Under the bright sun in a crowded train.
Two pair of eyes found their way.
A stare so deep yet quite in vain.

When he wore blue and she wore white.
Unscathed by love, untouched by light.
Covered in shades of the daily races.
Disguised by the gaze of a thousand faces.                        

And so they went their own ways
Far, and astray, never to meet again.
Leaving a trail of where it ended,
As well as where it began.

She wore gloves,
long, cotton swan's necks
which she stole from the
fields outside Baltimore,
plucked from the brown
fingers that wore the soil to dust.

She wore gloves,
a white pretense of elegance,
to hide her dainty,
fingers of a lady
who had never labored a day in her life.
Or so he supposed.

She wore gloves,
he'd soon discover,
to masque the bleeding
from nights spent battling
a linguistic war
with her old typewriter.

She wore gloves,
white lies that they were,
to protect her only valuables
from being taken from her
or doomed to the fate
of being held in another's.

She wore gloves,
never took them off,
as her one and only disguise.
For who would publish
lofty, luxurious paragraphs
when tainted by the pronoun her?

I write this with tears in my eyes.
Not of anger or sorrow
But of love.
The tremble of my fingers smears the ink of my pen.
A memory I've kept so dear,
Like a child with his teddy bear-
An angel in a black tie-dye BMTH shirt,
The one I gave you.
You wore almost every time I saw you
You said it was soft.
You loved it so much.
I still remember every outfit you've ever worn.
When we first met:
The long sleeve HDLMS shirt, black pants, black vans.
Your hair was up in a bun,
One I've come to love.
You wore red lipstick,
Which you didn't know yet I loved so much.
Our first kiss at my job:
A black shirt, cheetah pants.
Your hair was still curled from your competition-
I thought you should have won-
You wore a purple-ish lipstick.
When it came time for us to leave, I picked you a flower,
You surprised me with a kiss.
God, that kiss from one of his finest creations.
That's when I knew we were meant for each other.
When I came to your house:
You wore that BMTH shirt, black leggings, white vans.
Your makeup was done
Your hair in a bun.
How beautiful you looked.
We sat outside
Talked for hours.
We looked at the stars and talked of god.
I knew he was real every time I looked in your eyes.
Your sister's birthday:
A metallica shirt with the sleeves cut, blue jeans, black vans.
You wore that same lipstick from when we first kissed.
We had dinner,
I had some beer.
We kissed.
I couldn't let you go.
When you came to my house:
I don't remember what you wore, only what you didn't.
I do remember that candle you dropped and how I told you to run.
That was fun.
The first time in Grapevine:
You wore a red flannel, a denim jacket, black pants, black vans.
We had dinner.
I had water.
I was sick, but you still let me sneak a kiss.
Photos under the mistletoe,
The first time I picked you up.
I got you that ******* you wanted.
The second time in Grapevine:
God I had never seen a sight so divine.
You wore bedsheets better than Kim wears Givenchi.
I couldn't keep my hands to myself
And you were okay with it.
I told you I loved you
And I meant it.
I still do.
I'm going to miss your eyes
Your smile
The way you looked at me when I made a smart-*** remark.
The way we play argued
And you let me nibble on your neck-
That made you giggle.
Our tickle fights-
How I adore your laugh.
The way you hugged me when you saw me-
I could tell you were true.
My other half,
When you read this I want you to know,
I love you more than the stars I hold dear-
More than the air that I breathe,
And oh how I love to breathe.
Te amo mi amor.

She wore a yellow dress the day that he picked her up in his truck for their very first date. Her hair fell in loose curls and gentle waves upon her shoulders like the low tides of the ocean on a warm summer day when it was just the right temperature for sun-bathing. She had a smile as careless as the high grass swaying in the wind around the telephone poles that they passed on their way to the lake that they were planning on picnicking at. Her hands danced like shadow puppets on the dashboard to the rhythm of the country songs emitting from the radio. She crossed her thin legs and tilted her head towards the sky, allowing the breeze sweeping through the cab to kiss her neck as it passed by. Every now and then, when she wasn't looking, he'd steal a glance in her direction like a heads-up penny that he would slip into his pocket for good luck for later. When he pulled off the dirt road and removed the wicker basket and blanket from the truck bed, she ran ahead of him like a gazelle yearning to quench her thirst, searching for a spot near the lake for them to sit. She fell to her knees on a soft patch of dirt that filled the creases like puzzle pieces, as though she belonged to it. As he made his way to her, he watched as she tangled the grass in her fingers like strands of hair before looking up at him and smiling.  He never knew what love was, but he knew this was as close as he ever needed to be in order to be happy.

She wore a yellow dress the evening that she crawled through his bedroom window to spend the night with him, without his parent's consent. Her hair was tucked behind her ears like every reservation he had until he met her, that now dangled out the window. He removed his guitar from behind his bed and watched as she twirled around in circles in the center of his bedroom, as though the angels were strumming on harps just for her. Every now and then, his fingers would slip from the strings, because he couldn't remove his eyes from her pink lips as they lip-synced their very own love song. When the melody ceased, she fell into the carpet like a cloud that she could float away on top of. He put his guitar back in its rightful place before fitting his body behind hers, holding her and whispering their love song as they both fell asleep.

She wore a yellow dress the afternoon that he pushed her on a tire swing. Her slender fingers gripped the rope the way she held him, as though she never intended to let go. He pressed his hands against her back and pushed her into the heavens, wondering how he was so fortunate to receive an angel when it came back to him. Her hair blew behind her like the physical manifestation of the sound waves of her laugh whenever she went too fast. He couldn't remove the smile from his face, even if he tried, although he never would whenever she was around. She was the high, higher than the tire swing could ever take her, that he never wanted to come down from.

She wore a yellow dress the night that she was riding her bike, alone. Her feet pressed down on the peddles and her hips balanced the frame as she spread her arms out beside her like a bird in flight. Her mind was still racing with thoughts of him, his soft breath against the back of her neck and the feel of his hand against her stomach, when a car sped around the turn too quickly. She felt the headlights illuminate her skin like the sunlight that kissed her the way he did on their first date, but the blow that followed didn't quite resemble that of his kiss.

She wore a yellow dress the morning that they decorated her casket. Her hair was stiff as it framed her powdered face, and her hands were cold as they were crossed on her chest. Her legs were covered by a silk blanket and daisies were laid upon them. A forced smile was spread across her lips, appearing grotesque, which was the first thing he noticed whenever he entered the funeral home. At the sight of her lifeless body, he fell to his knees and began sobbing. She was now nothing more than a metaphor for the good dying young.

She wore a yellow dress the twilight that she walked into the sunset to greet him. Her hair fell delicately down her back like a waterfall cascading into a heavenly pool. She had a smile as warm as the sunbeams that blinded him whenever he first opened his eyes, after he (what he thought might be) permanently closed them while lying on the cold tile of his bathroom floor. Her hands reached out to hold his, as though she desired to place twinkling stars in his palms. She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder, holding him like she knew she failed to do the evening that she left him. Then she lifted her head towards the heavens again, allowing the wind to kiss her neck and the sun to sweep her into his arms (along with him) and her yellow dress.

to my first pets funeral
i wore a brand new black dress
to my great grandmothers funeral
i wore a nice black dress
to my uncles funeral
i wore a plain black dress
to my grandfathers funeral
i wore a faded black dress
to my mothers funeral
i wore a stained black dress
to my husbands funeral
i wore a ripped black dress
to my daughters early funeral
i wore a tattered black dress
to my own wretched funeral
i wore a dress all of white