Me in FishNet Stockings

Me in FishNet stockings

I wear them like quiet rebellion,

threads crossing where stories remain,

not for eyes that only measure,

not for praise that disappears again.

Each step carries something different,

a version I kept out of view,

pieces stitched from growing older,

learning what I will not undo.

People see only the surface,

dark lines wrapped against my skin,

never knowing what they covered

or the strength they hold within.

Once I dressed to disappear,

to soften edges, stay unseen,

now I choose what feels like mine

without explaining what I mean.

FishNet stockings and steady silence,

no permission left to seek,

finding confidence in small details

instead of needing others speak.

Not every choice is made for attention,

some are made to feel alive,

to stand inside your own reflection

and know your spirit still survives.

I stopped shrinking into corners,

stopped folding dreams away,

stopped wearing other people’s comfort

while my own faded grey.

Now I move with quieter courage,

letting each moment settle slow,

understanding being yourself

is the strongest thing to show.

So if you ask what they mean to me,

nothing louder than being true—

a way of wearing my own story

without asking anyone to approve.

#Marie381UkWriter