‘Til death do us…
Wait.
Because you are holding the door open , your foot there wedged between the top of the staircase
And the Place Without Doors
An in-between, a go-between with no home now, no family, no…
Who would pay for the honeymoon? Sweet biscuits and tea by the ocean, or maybe a dance across the water to Ireland, where you always…
But then, I guess that’s out of the question now. Funny how easy it is to forget, with you looking at me like that.
That you are a ghost. Not alive. Dead. And you say marriage will bring you some kind of closure? Here I thought death was as much closure as one person needed.
I don’t owe you anything.
I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger.
The suicide pact was your stupid idea, anyway.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.08 seconds at 3:32am on Nov 26, 2024 via server WEBX2.