Dressed in white
Church bells ring
they’re just waiting for the cake.
As the old woman cry’s
young girls scream in envy.
I don’t feel a single thing.
Dandelions and daisy wreaths adorn her fading veil.
Are you a friend of the groom?
I used to be a friend of the bride.
Do you remember?
When you barged into my room with that cheap boxed wine.
Made so many promises
I knew you’d forget, so pantomime.
I can’t forget when you said you were mine.
Now you’re leaving with him.
I won’t believe it this time.
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