All I Want A response to “What Do Women Want” by Kim Addonizio
I want a cotton dress. I want it white and flowy, I want it just right, I want to wear it everywhere I go. I want it elegant and modest, this dress, because you already know my flesh, and it is only for you. I want to walk down the street past the lit-up movie theatre with all those dressed up people sparkling in the moonlight, past the spilling fountain and the sculptures of re-imagined imperfection. I want to walk like I belong with that, like a mannequin girl, all dressed up, without a sin. I want that dress bad. I want it to cast away all your doubts about me, to show you that I have no impurities and have never desired another, but you. When I find it, I’ll take that dress from its hanger and it will become me and I will no longer be, or have been. For you, to you, I’ll be a woven angel, who is only good, and beautiful, and perfect. And when I leave you, all you will remember of me is this dress.