The Wedding Gown of Marriage
The quest for less baggage
Seems all wrapped up in a neat tiny
box, not a gift.
Still nice, but tied up real tight
Only does it hold up to the tulle and the tussle of cool, vacant sheets
The layers and folds and creases that told of pain and misunderstanding,
Or bittersweet words that linger with time
Like layers of buttercream
It came off at once.
This veil of complexity all sheer and white,
The iridescent taste of raw silk bunched up then spread stiff in a harsh morning light.
Has the essence of sweetness dissolved quickly with one caress
And at the first touch of the tongue?
A garter, a martyr,
A groom, a self starter,
A bride made of blushing bravado
Complete with slick pearls
And polished silver reflected in mirrors
Who knows what happens within each hand-stitched thread
When passion and bunting and (dis)honesty met.
A nod, a cold shoulder, a toss of the head,
Where things of the heart are often unsaid.
Who knew that chamber in which you were led
Would end without words but a stroke of a pen.