Widows of Phantom Brides

February 21, 2006


You keep waiting and it finally comes, in unfamiliar territory, you find the strangest doors.

If I ever have a love of my own, I hope he looks and acts and dreams exactly like you. Tainted throwbacks sporting suntanned rings, I hope I have the pleasure of taking first. Coupled misery and faded passion monopolize social circles and remind me of my chosen status. To grow old alone puts the fear in even the strongest, but at least my time will be my own, and my passing will not induce sadness, but if it does and I give in to brides in wedding dresses, I hope to leave behind a widower just like you.

One more bout of winter before summer starts to rear its scorching head. I hope the Gulf is a little more welcoming than last year. Viruses and sharks plagued her waters as I stood on the shore fighting the sun.

We grow younger as we age and older when we fail to move forward.

No guilt on a day like today to spoil a relaxed mind and rested body.

Divided we stand, united we fall, I love my country in spite of it all.

Childhood memories wasted on you, and now we’ve grown bitter into adulthood, and recent memories fail to stick around.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist