It was one of those fucked up forever things,
because her faith died so soon.
He aborted it with curious hands and
one too many
Freudian slips.
Puppy-eyed whispersoft ‘sorrys’
couldn’t save them-
fairy tales don’t fit around here.
It was much more of a sugar coated nightmare.

Oh, but lord knows they tried.
She shoved all her misgivings in a closet and
sometimes planned the wedding
she never said yes to
(when she wasn’t shredding
the abused hope from her skin).

Six months later, and-

Darling, she whispers,
I don’t miss you,
but you could have held on just a little bit longer.