Bride
she was driven out of the banquet
out to the orange mist of the cold summer morning..
shes walking in pain with her broken stilleto
still trying to look poised and righteous..
but the bees and the butterflies
knew
her fragile womanity..
no matter what she do,
nothing is left to her
but her old maiden dress,
stained with blood
of the past
winter
night..
out to the orange mist of the cold summer morning..
shes walking in pain with her broken stilleto
still trying to look poised and righteous..
but the bees and the butterflies
knew
her fragile womanity..
no matter what she do,
nothing is left to her
but her old maiden dress,
stained with blood
of the past
winter
night..
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