American Marriage Donna Dallas It’s a cancer that mutates and spreads after rings are placed on fingers sacred prayers bless us for eternity it wove into the lace of my dress the knot of your bow tie needled into our skin blackened the grip between us we sprout flagrant rants (can we really be this pathetic?) how quickly we rotted out (your mother must have put a curse on us) as just yesterday we held our infant son under the lazy sky and laughed giddy like angels in flower beds today you sit gray as death and plot my demise
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