My bride

11 0 0
                                    

My Bride
He stands on her porch
Crying
He holds a bundle of flowers
Waiting for her
She never comes

He sits down
With a broken crown
Waiting for you

Your body hangs
In the attic
Wedding dress
Hanging limply from your body
A cold smile
Dead eyes
Ghostly white face

You simply laugh at that poor guy.

•howdy•Where stories live. Discover now