Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

A Change

Black lace,

baked into my skin,

into my soul.

I know who I was supposed to be,

born and bred,

by Aphrodite,

to belong to somebody,

sleeping in silk,

breathing bridal vows,

in my dreams,

they flow around me,

floating like clouds,

abstract ideas.

I know that one day,

it will come,

but when…

When…

When?

Am I a wife,

or a widow?

It depends,

on the day of the week,

and the things they say to me,

and if I can convince myself,

that it wont fall apart,

that I won’t fall apart,

again.

How many “How are you?”,

“Send pics”

“Sorry, I’m just not after something serious”

invasions must I endure?

Reversals,

oppositions,

but eventual ever after.

Someone who will be fair,

to my frightened heart.

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