Betrothed
Madelyn Chennells
"Come home with me,” he says
Shading my vague future with his fingers
I have no choices
But to slip
When I slip I hit the pavement
Hard
The scrapes on my chest
He pays no mind to
Because really… Why would he?
And tomorrow my veil will obscure my unfortunate future
My parents will make no objects
My rank will ascend, as those before me have
So mark my words
I will ignite a match of dispassion to this room where he and I slumber
“Maybe,” I finally answer as he grins
Because he knows
But he doesn’t
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