NaPoWriMo: Day 19

Wedding on Deansgate

This dress waited for you,
hung off the rack and leant out
and touched you; still does
on these steps, protects you
from the wind and from him.

He stands three steps down,
instructs and gives orders
to a long lens on the Cathedral
pathway in tuxedoed satisfaction.

This dress is white, pure and
stays close, you like it
because it's not him and
every smile you give is
a begrudged teeth bared grin.

Glare from the awaiting
limo leaves you sightless for
just a moment.

You awake into a new dawn, new day,
just like the song;

in your dress you watch
your mother drunk on jetlag and
airline booze dance to the drones of
miserycord song and
you cling to the only thing you can,
that waited for you.

Protected you.

Still does.