is still running.
It closes 7th July. For details and entry, visit:
And from the 23rd to 25th June, DOGNAPPED? is FREE!
Romantic Friday Writers have a great writing prompt for June, and that's a wedding! Go over and sign up, write yourself a short story or scene that includes a wedding theme - will your bride wear white?
I Do...Do You?
It’s embarrassing for me when you say goodbye and I don’t leave. My linger becomes uncomfortable for us both. So, I think, my dearest, that you should stop saying goodbye.
No, don’t speak. Keep this moment suspended, I hope forever. I know I’ve said it before, many times, too many to recall. But I’m here with you where I always want to be.
My sweet, beautiful love, oh there, I’ve said it first. Love. I thought I’d be afraid once the promise slipped my lips. I’m not you know. It feels right. Love. A truth that passes between us.
I’ve declared what we both already knew. There are no questions left. This must be done. Tell her. It really is the kindest thing to do.
The crease of your brow betrays your worry. Bad timing. I know. She’s somewhere right now sliding into that ridiculous white gown. She’ll be devastated. Calm your concerns my darling one. When she sees what must be she’ll forgive us. And she will see, for neither of us could conceal our feelings anymore, we glow with our love, our future intertwined reads like a happy neon sign upon our smiles. She’ll be happy for us, and it will free her. You could never care for her the way you care for me.
Tomorrow will be too late, so I won’t go. Don’t say goodbye, I’ll never leave. Don’t say 'goodbye', or 'get out' or 'I have a restraining order'. Those are just words.
Your denial cuts me. It slices through my soul, a ribbon on its handle. My pain gushes from the wound. How can you pretend to be unaware of our connection?
I see I’ve hurt you too my love. There’s shock in your eyes, they reflect the red of my open wrists, the stain of our destiny. It’s not too late. And you, my handsome groom, can join me. My sister may have the white taffeta dress, but I’ll have you. My blade of truth punctures your sweet throat and now your love finally flows and mingles with mine. As we crumble, our vows spread into a glossy red heart, framing us, this will be our wedding portrait.