Wedding Cake In the Middle of the Road

He wasn't there.

I walked down the aisle, into the church, and he wasn't there. The groom's side was completely empty.

He never told me he had doubts about us. He never told me about the talks he had with his mother about me. That monstrous woman refuses to believe that I've changed. I thought he'd forgiven me. I stopped the drugs, the drinking, the cheating, and the baby was his.

The red I saw was not of the roses covering the aisles, nor of the velvet on the seats. I went from being blinded by love, to hatred and anger.

All I could think of was the cake. The cake. It was a beautiful creation. It had three tiers and butter cream frosting. I cut only the first piece, deciding to save it for a year and maybe enjoy a piece of the dream I'd lost then.

I wanted him to have the rest. I brought it to 3672 Ridgefield Drive and dumped it. He can eat it along with a of fresh squeezed milk from his mother's breasts.