Failed Fiancée

Their judging eyes upon me I see them hold their tongues to keep from saying what they’re thinking That I’m crazy That I’m a disappointment Whispers behind my back about how I’m the failed fiancée, Not cut out for marriage The whispers that I’m the horrible Christian who doesn’t love God enough to be the submissive woman all good god-fearing women are suppose to be Their judgment no longer bothers me, For I have faced it too many times before Perhaps I’m not cut out to be the submissive woman the church tells me to be I could no longer kill a part of myself to fit into the tight corset the church has told me I need to wear to be a godly woman I doubt God would have me suffocate and whither into an empty shell of who I am So I may be the failed fiancée But at least I’m not the empty, hollow, shell of a good Christian wife