by Rushda
 But hearing wasn’t seeing afterall. Her breath pulled in. Her dreams
took off on wings of fancy. Oh glory to be heaven. She walked into
another room, in another time, in another place, drifting off from a
dream of true love that could never be hers except in dreams. But that
was fantasy and in her life, fantasies were written on clouds that
floated by, impossible to grasp, caught in the wind, gone as fast as
they appeared. For the first time in this room, she stripped off and Oh
did her legs look heavenly divine.
The silk white enforced wedding gown looked magnificent on a
miserable bride, crying in her wedding dress and tearing her hair out.
She looked through the mirror of sorrow and took a fresh perspective and
what a fascinating mirror when sleep was evasive. She stood so
enthralled unable to respond to what had held her so mesmerized. It was
one of her rules that she jets on bed and say her prayers.
Yet that night she had, she didn’t say it. Then she was on her knees
by the decorative pretty flowered bed with her palms together under her
chin and she didn’t know what to pray since already she had prayed so
much and none of it helped.
She’s just been there empty minded, bleak hearted but her body and
its nerve endings felt everything and screamed out loud what she
couldn’t bring her self to think much less say. She knew her goose was
cooked, so she thought but she stood perfectly still. Words trembled at
the end of her tongue but common sense held her back. Oh hell and
damnation. She swore in frustration, while her doubts and fears
embroidered on a loveless marriage... |
