# Ghost marriage

Дарина Юрьевна Татаринова

Her red dress rustles, but bride is still,

Groom drinks his cup, for her he'll spill.

A painted face, a gentle lie,

Pinned where her true eyes used to cry.

We bow together, slow and deep,

My clumsy hands her balance keep

She's leaning on me, light as air,

A fragile dream beyond compare.

Wine she don't sip, a crimson stain,

Flows on the silk like silent rain.

The sugared plum, a wasted treat,

Falls softly down before my feet.

Where is she gone, my heart's delight?

Between the shadows and the light.

Beside the Springs, a lonely soul,

Or sleeping deep beneath the knoll?

Perhaps within that tablet small,

Or doll that crumples, doomed to fall.

This paper bride, this empty shell...

It matters not, I love her well.

And all that's left is memory's gleam,

Forever bound to me in dreams

By seams unseen, eternally,

She's mine, and I am hers, you see.