Behind the abandoned windows of the temple lies a dress.

Scented with the aroma of fear and uncertainty. It clings to her figure like a premature gasping for air.

It trails across the temple with long, broad tears like the Nile River.
It extends and ignites waves of despair to the chapel, like an angry ocean in a feud with the moon.

It whispers the sweet love it craves..the love it was promised. The sweet sweet love of the runaway groom.

A groom that brought a bouquet of toads and cremated snails to the door step of the bride.

With ashes blinding her view to cut a rope that has long deteriorated.

Left her heart covered in multiple tourniquets to stop the deep wound from spreading all around her fragile body.

A dress mourning for the binding of two souls.
Her spirit prophesies hourly for the dark cloud in the sky to awaken and part ways for a  night of celebration and unity of the two races of the human kind.

But forever his heart will be on the run, like a wanted fugitive, a courtesan on the lose for an unfaithful hour of satisfaction.

Forever shall her dress mourn the passing of a praised creature.
Forever shall his heart reign on the eyes of her neighbor.

Forever shall the bride haul insults
louder than the cry of stones.