Disclaimer: I just thought of what it would be like to be ready to walk down the aisle, even though you are the scared one in the relationship, and be the only one there. I thought about the helplessness that would crash into you as you walked away alone. Here is the product of those thoughts. I own nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~"I was patient and waiting, you were nervous and stalling."~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everybody is watching me right now, with sympathy and pity bright in their eyes. But I can barely notice that right now; because I'm standing here, dressed in all white, waiting. I am waiting for you to show up and apologize, tell me some new dark lord rose up and that's why you were late.

I need you to show up, because I'm standing here dressed all in white.

But you don't show up and I ignore Pansy as she tells everyone its over, go home, it's so very

over. I walk right out of the flowered building, down the rice covered stairs, and into a carriage that is telling lies. No one here got married, I am not married.

When I get to our place, your things are gone. There is still dust on the night table where the pictures of your parents once stood. The shelves full of documents and work related objects are empty.

This place is so empty.

The note scribbled on wrinkled paper doesn't help me, it doesn't help me. It says it loves me and that it didn't show because I didn't really want it to. And that note is right, I didn't want it to show, I needed you to. But you aren't the one telling me you love me, just old parchment.

That is all I am worth to you; a few scratches of your quill and you are done.

I'm standing in the middle of our bedroom, dressed in white, and I can no longer breathe here. But it's not like you would understand that, because you couldn't wait to get out of this room. I wonder if you were suffocating here, I wonder if that's why you left. You were wrong, though, I wanted to walk down that obnoxiously colored aisle and see you waiting. But I ended up being the one waiting, and no one came for me.

The tightness in my chest is getting too much and I can feel the walls closing in on me. I grab the closest pair of scissors and start hacking my way out of these silk, white, robes. I keep hacking until they are falling off of me and I can breathe.

I am completely nude, and I am still dressed in all white.

The ring that was supposed to stay on my finger forever is now living under the couch we used to share.

I open the shower door and turn the temperature to the coldest possible and I start to scrub. I scrub until I can't feel you, I scrub until I can't smell you, I scrub until I am no longer a person.

My skin is blotches of blue and pink, blue from the cold, pink from the violence.

I am no longer white.

With my blue skin, borrowed heart, old hatred, and new found loneliness; I should be getting married.

Something borrowed something blue, something old and something new. I have it all, but I don't have anyone to share it with. I don't have my husband by my side; because he didn't want to become my husband.

Casting one last look in the mirror I watch as my shields grow cold again, I watch as they struggle from years of not being used. But they do grow, as will I. I was supposed to be getting married today, but instead I'm crawling into my bed alone.

I was ready to be dressed in white.

~~~~~~~~~~~~"Your love is nothing but a bitter taste."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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