Clad in a tacky old sweater, I’m sitting at the dining room table
peppered with Christmas cookies and desserts galore.
I take time to really look at each face surrounding me.
They all resemble him, but only one catches my eye.
Our eyes meet, and my engagement ring begins to itch   5
more than the wool of my sweater.
The longer we stare the silver burns hotter against my skin. 
I love him, that’s all that matters.
Like she always said.
I remember when we first met.      10
She took me in when I needed her most,
adoring me like the daughter I think she always wanted.
The days we spent together
she painted pictures in my mind of things I never thought imaginable,
oxblood rose petals dotting the aisle, an extravagant ball gown,  15
a great hall, and my best friend,     
her son.
She promised only the very best.

Now here we are.

Grumbling like zombies over what cookies to scarf down  20
desperately avoiding any altercation     
because all of a sudden
her pictures have graduated from simple water colors to the finest oils;
they’re real, true masterpieces,
displaying for her to see, taunting her.    25
Regret stains her face, her work has betrayed her.   
She says it’s too soon; I’ll be ruined like her.
She says he’s his father’s boy; it’ll last six months tops,
but I love him, that’s all that matters.
Like she always said.        30