Ohemgeeeee

The music plays, all heads turn back to see the beaming bride and there is happiness abound. I look forward to see the groom's face: He is grimacing.

In a Peruvian dress she stands. In a cold house on the edge she lives, a house she knows is falling apart. It won't stand much longer. Her own mother said it was crumbling. Crumbling. By the week's end it'll be over, she said. The week ended and now everyone is walking on the light end of toes, for the structure is weak. Weak as frail bones. Weak by the week's end. It's not a dress. It's red paint, it's black lines and blue flakes. Splattered paint, smeared lines, falling flakes. Falling apart. By the week's end. I know you'll just be happier when it's over, she said. You'll be in your other house, I know you love it more than this one. I k