Black orchid and juniper cling to her
like a secret. She wears drama the
way other people wear basics: a wrap
dress, a bow one pull from undone,
a hem that trails like it's reluctant to
leave. She's the one the story is about
French rose and almond oil, soft as
a Sunday.She dresses like she's always
mid-daydream ruffles stacked on ruffles,
a bow tied twice,flowers that the front of
her like they grew there. Nothing about
her is loud. Everything about her is felt.
Orange blossom and vitamin C she's
the friend who makes everything feel
like golden hour. Clean skin, a slicked
back bun, a wardrobe that moves as
fast as she does.No fuss, just glow.
Aloe vera and freesia purified, unhurried,
barefoot even in heels. She wears florals
like they're basics: soft,quiet, moving
with her instead of announcing her. Her
wardrobe is the loudest kind of quiet
restraint as a statement,not an absence.