I filled a wedding dress with bones--
Well all right, so I stole the dress.
I wanted to be a sweet confection,
So that you would want to wrap me in fluted paper
And place me in the perfect box of delicate pale cardboard
As if I had been born into the palm of your hand
To stand there and be
But, darling, my whiteness is that of punishing northers, cracked ice and frostbite--
Not sugar frosting...
Unless, naturally, you mean the purity of my disappointment at your revealed ordinariness.
I have fleshed myself with everything sharp I could find.
Don't look so pale, as if you'd seen a ghost!
Invite me to dance, and if your hair falls out from the roots, or your heart stops, then it does.
Come, risk something.
I'm just a girl,
What could happen?
It's the least you could do for your bride.
for One Shot Wednesday #36