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

Artificially sweet.

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

Of doubt.

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.


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