no. i say,
and it is my body that screams,
like a child at the super market begging
for a toy. it is my body that aches.
it aches to feel the soft fabric against my skin.
it aches to feel free. to dance in the wind,
the smooth silk flowing behind me in the wind.
it is my hand that feels it's smooth texture.
my eyes that witness it's intricate embroidery.
my mouth that goes dry at my desire to feel free,
and my body that is forced to walk away.
to move onto the men's section.
after all, according to my mother,
its just a phase.
