In Holy Matrimony

There was an unrestrained vibrancy that accentuated glowing features

A distant memory

She gazed at the transparency of the jagged shards

The anguish of a broken soul advertised the stain of regret she wore

Like mustard on a white cotton blouse

The discoloration of ripe plums

Her compensation for investing in a fraudulent stock

Convalescence is stifled with every creak of settling wood

The slightest breeze caused the faintest twitch of her already surrendered muscles

Collateral damage from years of an uncanny display of love

A nightly dissemination of hands on training

Befitting for nothing short of a mongrel

To commence upon his arrival

Reeking of indignation hours after indulging on that same wooden stool

There was an unequivocal misunderstanding the day that white dress was donned

How could one be so foolish?

Fools pay the highest premiums

A daily application was made for obedience

To be paid in frequent installments…

A previous encounter with dignity yielded disastrous results

A challenging tongue

Addressed swiftly with the first of many reminders

A blueprint for the coming years

There would be an initial opportunity to cradle the true essence of womanhood

Another training session…

A brutal lesson

And she would carry no more

Ever…

There were those pondering moments

Followed by inquisitions, launched in the direction of a higher being

A triage of emotions laid out in assorted flavors

Finally resting on her current comatose hypnotic like state

A defeated soul with little left to offer

Any traces of self worth had been siphoned long ago

Like dust in a vacuum…

A complete cleansing down to the bones, leaving not a remnant of self esteem

Her eyes now sat deep in the sockets

Like a sunken barge, rusted by excessive moisture

Deep creasing lines that would broadcast a portrait much older than its years

Fortunately one that few would now see

This was once a beautiful painting

But, there could never be enough training….

There would be those fleeting mirthful recollections

Temporary pauses near a reflection

A stark reminder of what could have been

My God in heaven…

There are no more lessons to be learned

Only sadness for the inevitable final act

No more training

There was no more to be endured

Maybe while he was sleeping or on that same wooden stool?

Her final stance would be the one dance he would always remember

Making her way towards the top drawer

Yes of course…

And that would be her final act of valor

She would endure no more

Copyright©2013 by Daryl R. Gaines. All rights reserved