Sara was alone

Sara was alone.
The spindly spindly blond woman hid behind the grand piano
sobbing into her ornate wedding gown.
Her body was long and tapered,
fingers shaped like scissors
opening and closing.
It was many hours before she arose.
Pulling up a frame so weak she fell back to the cold marble.
Her eyes were sunken, the lines down her face showed though
to her grey skin.
Tears had washed away the white powder makeup and blush.

Sara was alone.
Wet from tears.
Cold from marble floor and lack of warm fabric.
She tried again, pulling herself up
by the death black piano bench.
Barely making her feet she reflected on the shiny surface of the masterful instrument.
The spider woman smudged
the many layers of white mask
into the dried tear rivers
she felt the emptiness within her,
but it no longer bothered her stick thin frame.
Taking deep breaths into her hollow cheeks in an effort for beauty.

Sara was alone.
Her tiny feet walked to the door
without granted permission.
Scissors fingers took up the blood covered flower of love from the lone oak table.
The door muttered death treats
upon its opening, to a forever long hall.
She almost fell, but a sharp hand clasped a picture frame
holding her steady.
only a few steps for small feet to reach the other door.
The last time she saw herself
reflected in the polished dark wood.
It opened on the chapel room,
brightly lit, sun pouring through window panes
to touch her face.
Small legs brought her forward to the sight of kin
and kin to be.

Sara was no longer alone.