She wore the dress.
The one made just for her existence.
Black, like the sands of Punalu-u.
Liquid sex against her thighs, as her hips swivel down the runway in his mind.
That dress, it caressed,
Like the sweet somethings she would whisper in his ear later that night.
She knew what the fuck she was doing when she put it on.
Putting everyone in the room in a trance.
Air kisses amidst hand shakes, and champagne induced laughter,
But no one could deny that that dress took the night.
The small of her back visible to those who dared,
The destination of wandering eyes, and cause for side eyes.
Yes, that dress.
The one made for her, but meant for him … to take off.
and no, this is not the dress i had in mind when i wrote this. but it’ll do lol.