Her dark, tattered veil… A proud family heirloom, Or impending sign of doom She walked like a whisper, Eyes lit like flame, A soft southern smile, No hint of shame. In ivory and lace, under clear blue skies, A breeze kissed the veil as the doves took flight. She moved with grace, so sweet, so tame, But don’t be fooled by her angel name. September air, a warm breeze hums, The porch is strung with violins and drums. Magnolias bloom, the vows unfold, He takes her hand, his fingers cold. She says “I do” with perfect ease— A kiss, a cheer, a sigh through the trees. But somewhere deep inside that grin... She counts the days ‘til it ends again. A fairytale scribed in lace, A husband’s hand, a bride’s embrace. Plans were made, groundwork laid First a honeymoon... then a grave. But something cold beneath her grin, An echo deep beneath her skin. An agenda whispered through the wine, “Get you locked in… then cut the line.” This ain’t her first go ‘round, She’s married a few… put some in the ground. You did the math, her numbers skewed, The veil hides secrets, but not from you. Her love is laced with shades of pain, Velvet kisses… and former names. The veil’s been soaked in perfume and rain, Worn in joy, sheathing shame. You see it now… That veil… it’s thin. Not just old, It's worn from sin. This ain’t no blushing bride, She’s a black widow, she has a dark side. She smiled for vows, then let's them fade, With a shovel in her hand… you've been played. Her tattered veil waves in the wind… You swear you'd never say "I do"... But your headstone says you did.
