He gropes around for his ring

The clock starring at his face

She’s laying on his arm

Some woman he doesn’t know,

In some place he shouldn’t be.

She checks the clock one more time

The hands flicking her off

As they move slowly,

He didn’t call again

She’s afraid for her sanity.

He quietly puts his clothes on

One by one he finds them all,

Underwear sticking out from the love seat,

Socks close to the Champaign,

This is unnerving him.

She sets her ring down on the nightstand

With the utmost grace

As if it were a tiny rose with delicate petals

And standing in her face is a picture

Drifting and blurry in her sleepy state,

She recognizes the white dress,

But doesn’t seem to know the man anymore.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

50% of marriages fail...
so why do i hope for the best in the future?

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