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One Sunny Morning

There is intimacy in being alone

By Cecile RandallPublished 2 months ago 1 min read

What does it say about me—the fact that I like to dance when I am alone? I listen to music that sounds like love. It belongs to the slowest, sugared mornings, when lace clings to my skin and coffee sweetens my mouth. I pause to watch my silhouette pirouette across the mirror. For a brief hour every morning, I am the pinnacle of womanhood. I twirl. I pinch at my stomach. I lie my head on satin pillows and stare at the ceiling and think and wonder and regret. I let jazz warm my soul. My room is messy and so is my heart. My vulnerabilities need no witness to breathe. I perform femininity for my own eyes, and thus I will always remain romantic, expressive, effervescent.

Free Verse

About the Creator

Cecile Randall

Rose-tinted diarist

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