The Wedding Bed…

She sat there, decked in red and gold, the scent of Jasmine in every fold.

Her knees drawn up to her chin, she hugged them tight to hold back in

Sobs of fear and a whimper of loss,

For the future unseen and of a past untold.

A bed covered in silk n petals of rose,

Of that she had many dreams of course.

Yet as sure as she was sitting on the bed,

those dreams she wished she never had.

If only it were easier to hate,

For harsh is truth as cruel is fate.

He walked in the room and saw her there,

his bride they said was a girl so dear.

He looked in her eyes and saw the pain,

the one he felt were the one and same.

His heart bore heavy with fear and loss,

For the future unseen and of a past untold.

They saw in each, broken pieces of a mirror,

Shattered by love like an unspoken horror.

If only it were easier to hate,

For harsh is truth and cruel is fate.

An unspoken moment passed within,

An understanding reached without words between.

He grabbed a pillow, passed by her,

His bed he made a little far.

She lied down on silken covers,

A weight lifted from her shoulders.

At least in each other they found,

a companion to pick the broken pieces around.

The Wedding Bed, was not their choice,

A gift it was from those who refused to hear their voice.

If only it were easier to hate,

For harsh is truth as cruel is fate.