The flowers are all ready,
The veil is in place,
The music is already playing.
The start of her perfect day.
She has butterflies in her stomach,
Jitters in her hands.
She makes her way down the aisle.
Alone.
Slowly, very slowly.
Nobody looks at her,
They all look ahead,
Tears flowing freely.
At the end of the aisle
Is the love of her life,
Standing next to a white box.
She stops in front of it.
Looks down.
The silver cross at its head,
Shining.
Slowly, ever so slowly,
She lifts the lid.
There she lays.
Hair like the darkest night,
Skin like the finest porcelain,
Lips like the palest pink roses.
She looks down at herself
And sobs.
Today, she became
Death's eternal bride.