alisonlubar femmedragon

Oh Nemesis imprint– you squeeze into jeans and find something of silk to drape on top like piped buttercream, a décolleté dusted with sparkling minerality, put your femme-drag-on again. That’s the only way to add fire to your roar. Check out your ass in the mirror then throw your clean hair over your shoulder, head tilted down. Wink. The mirror winks back.

You are both St. George and the Dragon. You are just the one reading the picture book, ready to wobble in a velvet stacked-heel boot, and keep your mascara waterproof for just this reason. Besides, you know how to pretty-cry, still, and hold your breath all night. It’s just like passing a graveyard.

Resurrect the only way you’ve learned to stay powerful, and if not powerful, safe, and if not safe, then at least pretty enough that they let you go, or at least still stop for you at the crosswalk. Keep the wings and flames under a cashmere cardigan for when you really need them.