We got married too young.
My breath shortens.
The doors to the church are about to open and all I can feel is my pulse quicken and this lingering moment of doubt I can’t seem to shake.
According to google, this fear is normal, but is it?
Counting down.
My father positions himself next to me.
He looks at me.
You know what look I’m talking about.
The look that says, “I’m your father and you are my daughter, if you want to escape, now is the time to say something...”
It’s like he knew something before I did.
But I cower.
The doors open and our eyes meet.
You don’t cry, but I do.
It’s like I’m walking to my death.
We get to the end and my father hugs me

I hesitate and don’t let go of my dad.
He whispers, “it’ll be ok”.
But it wasn’t.
It ended.
And I have myself to blame.