He left her in white.
He left her in awe.
He wasn't there, he didn't arrive.

She smiled and waited,
waited until sundown.

He never came.
He left her alone.
He left her with nothing.

She pouted and shook hands with the departing guests.

He left her.
He was nowhere to be found.

She walked, barefoot and red,
eyes blurry from the rain.

He left her,
he ran away.

She passed strangers,
who laughed,
cried,
gasped,
ignored.

He stayed away, nowhere to be found.

She was home. In the dark.

He was gone. In the dark.

She took a bath in her wedding dress.

He never took off his tux.

She laid in an empty bed.

He laid there.

Dead.