Ex-Wife's Wedding
EvilToasterElf
Posts: 1,119
The Wedding of My Ex-Wife
I pull off a copper striped necktie and slam it
into the large oak bar. It was as if the fabric
had rusted through my sternum and corroded
my lungs like a winter beaten muffler.
I order three shots of Jack Daniels and
pound them down my throat one after another,
chasing the chips of the oxidized tie through my
bowels. And I see them floating in
crude oil whiskey sinking to the bottom of my
bloodstream. I shake my head quickly,
hoping to eliminate the aftertaste
of the drink,
and the pictures in my head. Leaving room
in that dark attic to wonder
whether we are more human when ideas
string together in strands of Christmas tree lights
or when the lights are unplugged and all that
shows is a blank smile on the other side of our face. I flip
a ten dollar bill out of my wallet and return
to my table slowly. I stare at the bride’s table, that rectangle
filled with romantic thoughts. She looks perfect up there,
with sun-streaked
red hair that coils into her soft shoulders, and a tight white dress
wrapped around her frame, like some Hollywood starlet
of smiling immortality. She glances
at me with her green eyes and 100 tiny crystal bells chime all
around me. And as my dark space
fills
with pictures of tiny bells hanging from my ribcage,
struck by every expansion of my diaphragm
I hear the suited multitude shouting, “Toast!”
I pull off a copper striped necktie and slam it
into the large oak bar. It was as if the fabric
had rusted through my sternum and corroded
my lungs like a winter beaten muffler.
I order three shots of Jack Daniels and
pound them down my throat one after another,
chasing the chips of the oxidized tie through my
bowels. And I see them floating in
crude oil whiskey sinking to the bottom of my
bloodstream. I shake my head quickly,
hoping to eliminate the aftertaste
of the drink,
and the pictures in my head. Leaving room
in that dark attic to wonder
whether we are more human when ideas
string together in strands of Christmas tree lights
or when the lights are unplugged and all that
shows is a blank smile on the other side of our face. I flip
a ten dollar bill out of my wallet and return
to my table slowly. I stare at the bride’s table, that rectangle
filled with romantic thoughts. She looks perfect up there,
with sun-streaked
red hair that coils into her soft shoulders, and a tight white dress
wrapped around her frame, like some Hollywood starlet
of smiling immortality. She glances
at me with her green eyes and 100 tiny crystal bells chime all
around me. And as my dark space
fills
with pictures of tiny bells hanging from my ribcage,
struck by every expansion of my diaphragm
I hear the suited multitude shouting, “Toast!”
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
This forum was long overdue
June 17, 1999
The air is warm,
Moist,
Full of breath and perspiration,
With the sun gently glittering
Through the stained glass.
A slight creaking
As someone shifts to one side
And a crying baby
Momentarily divert my attention
From the classic proceedings before me.
How could I forget
The moments we've shared?
My soul:
It's yours
And I can still claim yours
As my own
We've grown so close
In the past years.
You and I,
We've meshed,
And for that, I'm thankful.
"We are gathered here today..."
I've heard it all before
On television shows
And in the movies,
"To join these two..."
It's so cliché.
Hurry!
Please hurry,
To the part for which I've been waiting
Too long!
"In holy matrimony."
On he drones,
The ambassador
To a faith I have no faith in,
In a church I've never worshipped in,
With people I've never met.
On he drones.
"To love and to cherish..."
Everyone knows this bit,
Get on with it!
"'Till death do you part?"
Still not there yet.
Please hurry!
On he drones.
Now I'm getting nervous.
It's almost time.
My palms are sweating,
My knees are shaking.
It's almost time...
Almost...
Almost...
It's time.
He smiles,
Looks up from his Good Book,
"If anyone objects to the joining of these two..."
I rise to my feet,
I catch my breath.
A stunned silence
Is deafening.
The hundreds of glaring eyes
Burn me.
I look around at all the faces:
All are shocked,
Though some more so than others.
A few smiles strengthen me
While a hundred frowns pound me into a shell of compliance.
But it's much too late to go back now.
Besides,
I have no peace to hold.
There are doubtless line breaks that could be changed, and will be, no poem stays the same for long as I'm sure you know, but I don't think I would sacrifice the style to enhance the music of it
Here here. Sometimes it behooves a poem the be slower, drawn out, or awkward. Personifies that particular mood more.
Just my 2 pence.
uberific......
And I won't make the same mistakes
(Because I know)
Because I know how much time that wastes
(And function)
Function is the key
You must have been delving deep into the old pages to bring this one back. Thanks for the read, it's actually been changed around quite abit somewhere in the big thread if you're this bored again sometime soon.