April 8, 2017: What Could Have Been

One more hour, one more second,
one more step;
broken heels, torn veil
shadows my lingering tears.
His picture tight in my hand,
I felt his touch
on my skin.
He would send me telegrams
about the beauty;
but not the magic or stars.
As my bridal gown
fades to black;
I walk to the beat
of bullets, not "Here come the Bride..."