The cage door will open
to free white doves……
Bury me in pearls and white satin.
Marry my corpse to the plans
of a silly girl’s heart.
Even the sun rose in brilliant yellow
to decorate the sky for my wedding,
but gasped in clouds when the altar
was untouched by your footprint.
I am no more than a forgotten silhouette
sitting under an unforgiving moon trying
to bend my pain into forgiving.
I have consumed too many whys
with the champagne while trying to understand
the reason I still bare my maiden name.
It is for the best…..really?
Who decides that is so?
I think I shall hate white roses.
They were supposed to have their thorns removed.
Yet, I am stone bleeding from the
needle stick of their deceitful bouquet.
©Susie Clevenger 2013
At Real Toads ~ A Word With Laurie she prompted us to write a
(Century Dictionary and Cyclopedia) 1. Pertaining or relating to a phantasmagoria; of the nature of phantasmagoria; illusive; unreal.