but i remember you

the white sundress
has a bodice that fits
her like a second skin,
a skirt that fans out
as she takes an
experimental twirl.
she’s not much of
a dancer this
one, but the feeling
of bared shoulders
and the string of her
mother's cool-to-the-touch
pearls around her neck
reminds her of
a very different night
when the music moved
her body with a cacophony
of lightorsound and something
more primal deep down in
the marrow of her bones.
a night when she closed her
eyes and swayed in time with
the mass of sweating bodies,
opened them to feel the electric
shock of a predatory,
i-like-what-see gaze directed
towards her.
back in the present
she looks at the reflection of
a girl still learning to
keep those shoulders straight,
uncurl the hands at her sides and
make herself memorable.

a/n: can butterflies retreat back into their cocoon?