little black dress

Hanging in banal closets of plaster,
Tempting the colors from the emotions, the sailk
slips like hidden thoughts from the body,

allowing a history of its own to flourish,
like names,faces,symbols,intentions,which
are unknown.Questions are in the stitches;

and in the beckoning.as it is seen and absorbed.
A world opened. A forest steeped
in its steep assumptions.Goodness held darkness.

There is the sight of black; there is its urging.
In the sens of it, a new sense approaches,
from the heart of the apparel.

What can i do/Place my hands on the surface?
or place your hands on my complexm hands,
to be adorned,densely,in elusive cloth..