Tulips line

her lavender dress

sweeping the floor

through her dance

of rose petals

falling in suspense.


A poignant scent

seeps into the pores

of her silk-smooth skin

stinging like a bee

buzzing against

the silent breeze.


She is silent.

She is haunted

in seams of tulips

and a bouquet of roses

from a friend lost

in day dreams

and a ghost

of memories.


Her friend stands

in pearls lining

her virgin=white dress

in sparking diamonds

and sipping Champaign

with a toast of vows

to a man with a black tuxedo

and a blurry reflection.


He holds his new-wife’s hand

and smiles through

his crooked yellow teeth.

A vow to clean his slate

with a sip of Champaign.


The wife’s friend stands aside

the crystal table

and chairs laced with velvet.

Her tulips fade

into her lavender dress

like  a camouflage of

deceit and cheap fabric.


Roses fall onto the floor,

the silent breeze closes

the open door

and a poignant scent

seeps into the new-wife’s pores.

Blemishes break out in

lies and misconceptions.

The wife stares into her glass’s reflection

and sees the man lost

in her daydreams

and a ghost of memories.


She cannot vow

to the man

in the black tuxedo

when her friend

holds the bouquet of roses

and wears a lavender dress

of purple tulips

to camouflage

the poignant scent of

Champaign under

her breath.

“Betrayal is, afterall, a poignant scent of deceit and cheap fabric.”




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