You don't belong (the Dress)

Last night, having dinner
With our church friends
Like we do every Tuesday-
Where do I belong?
Among the mission-minded
Youth pastors? The mothers-to-be milking
All the advice from the mother
With a baby in her hand?
The unmarried guys in their twenties?

So, I could go out with the gals…
Young, giggly, Full of spontaneity
Taking a hundred Facebook shots.
But how many wives
Are in a bar
Erasing fond memories like
Dancing with some bearded guy with a boner.

Meanwhile, at school I read eyes that judge
As I admit
That, yes, I am a young bride
And I’m not envious of
Beer pong tables,
Cheap beer, frat boys, and the smell of “herb”.

It’s inevitable-
My memory keeps taking me
To that day: I was wearing white
And the beautiful beaded bodice
Lay perfectly on my subtle curves.
I looked damn good-
I was nervous
But I looked damn good!
And that white dress flowed
Down, like a rainfall of satin and tool
As it bunched here, and bunched there…

I was a bride, a bride.
I remember the sea of smiles,
Daddy in arm,
My eyes locked
Into the eyes of my to-be,
You were hansome.
We held hands,
The preacher spoke,
We said the “I do’s”,
I laugh now,
The only thing on my mind
Was you pulling
That damn dress off.

And now what kills me,
Is here I am
White dress on a hanger,
And a lonely bride
Stuck

Listening to those same three words
Screaming at the closet

Where my white dress hangs…

The only condolence,
The dress is lonely too.

She remembers
Hugging my hips for the first time,
The way my skin felt
On each white stitch,
The rejoicing over
“This is the one!”
Applause and tears-
She was praised.

Now in a dark closet
Behind closed doors
She cries like a little princess
To be noticed.
Sometimes I hear her call
My name, softly…
She wants to feel my hips again,
My breasts,
My nervous legs dancing,
Dancing insider her,
She just wants to feel me,
Once more.

So I question,
Did we pull the dress off too soon?
Truth is
I’d love to be inside her, too,
But that’s not where I belong either.