Sitting on a fresh made bed
empty, cold, and stale,
gracefully resting on the floor,
her dusty, wedding vail.
The sheets still warm with memories,
of love and lust filled nights;
and is seems no matter how they tried,
they couldn’t make things turn out right.
The scent with in the musty air
is his, and his alone,
as she lay impatiently on her bed
staring at the silent phone.
One deep breath, she inhales
and drops into the pillow, deep;
Won’t let her self come up for air,
in fear she might begin to weep.
Fairytales of princesses,
'Happy ever after dear, I swear,
to hold you in my arms for life,
promise I’ll always care'.
She laughs a bit with in her self,
at all his useless lies,
and with the final thought of loneliness,
she lets go, and cries.

 
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