The Wedding

The bride in darkness hunched up,

sobbing into the fabric,

sopping up her tears,

salty and dense with,

makeup dissolved.

Scent of trampled flowers

and fear still fresh in the air,

The corpse of her groom

lay cold under the earth,

tightly held by mother nature’s

deep embrace,

gaping wound -hate slashes

across his chest and neck.

The bride sat upright,

no longer hunched up;

blood stains of her love-

abstract modern art,

on a canvas of silk and lace,

a madman’s creation-

soceity’s abomination

for finding love outside

her community.



Author: Nishi

Lifes imperfections give you those wonderful brainwaves which translate to stories and poems that enlighten and entertain.

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