I found what fell, how it altered.
The bride left at the alter.
The broken sentences the groom walked out on.
Shatter like glass, the pointed edges of her heart.
Scarred wrists and crimson stained fingertips.
Intentions once lost at "see",
brought back with currents
causing the poor girl to bleed.
But somehow its always her fault:
Why the love of her life left,
Why the pearl ball gown constricts her breath,
Why her awkward cries wake the baby at night,
But she can only see it fit,
She's always kind of lacked wit.
Now he's not her vice,
Making the memories of happiness cold as ice.
Now, the ashes in the urn have been replaced with salt water
"For the wounds that open when I once again falter.
And, you know, all I ever wanted was to be loved,
But my breathing's a pitfall, my death sentence from above."