It’s five to midnight and I’m nowhere when I see her, dressed in white; a blushing bride.
She’s not here to give me anything like the life growing inside my wife’s tummy, just the birthing of maggots in my gut.
And yet, how sweet would it be to taste her lips, to feel the soft press of her against me.
So, I go to her.
Go, so we may say our black vows to one another; a wedding ceremony attended by no one, officiated by an indifferent moon, and consummated with all the promise of euphoric rot and everlasting silence.
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