It’s 15 minutes before I die.
I’ve been here before?
Déjà vu? Routine? Hobby?
Uneasily, I am waiting for my groom.
Loneliness has walked me down the aisle
which is my kitchen, a job well done.
And yes, I have been waiting
all day in my bathrobe
sipping wine; the one called washing dishes
-miserably preparing the witnesses.
How I want to be remembered?
How I want to be forgotten?
They’re all the same to me.
-Men. Always running late.
I’ll wait a little longer, as I’ve always.