Blue nightgown, you’ve served me well. br With your delicate white flowers br and flirtation with maidenhood, br you gave me many nights br of womanly repose. br br They told me how they loved you, br that you made me look deliciously br enticing; I kept you close br on hungry, lightning-charged nights, br a scrumptious tart in a florid, br ribboned box. br br Blue nightgown, you were short br and sweet. On breathy December br eves, you did nothing to heat me, br yet somehow I slept soundly, br feeling safe and perfect-porridge warm. br br With the sweat of July midnights, br as you kissed and hugged my shape, br I still felt the breeze and its br light freedoms, as I glistened br and simmered under the moonlight. br br Blue nightgown, you puffed me up br and bore me intuition. br As you guided me through the bedroom br I learned to fill the waiting hearts, br and how to let them fill me. br In you, I was tall and lithe, br moving balletic, like br a careful, cool gazelle. br br But… br br Now, you seem smaller, br less lush with your pretty, br pure poesy, and the buttons br are hanging by the br thinnest of threads. br My legs are now rounder, br like spongecake, or suet, br or pink water-filled balloons. br Your power bleeds br its colour all over the floor. br The spell has puddled br at my feet. br br In you, br I lumber and shake, br simper and quake, br fading like the flowers br that once made me bloom. br br Blue nightgown, br you don’t fit me br anymore.