Faces and bodies and tears and hiding mingle together in this store full of white. Attempts to be joyful and graceful and present get lost in the tool and satin and and veils.
Heal pain and loss and loneliness and defeat in this mirrored fitting room. Grant freedom, enough at least for family dinner. Hold back these tears, this hurt, this wound. Guard spirit from sarcasm, good humor and the size of this dress; guard heart from retreat to lying ground tread many times before.
Guard, because left alone, I'm undone.
I'm done.
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