Perfect

My gown sits there, pristine, perfect and elegant, nothing like me. Silent tears run down my face, taking my mascara with them.
I stare at it's deep purple sash, it's beautiful neckline, it's frothy underskirts. Tonight was meant to be perfect. The food, the weather, the dress. Everything. He didn't turn up. Left me waiting, alone, distraught. I stand up and pace across to my phone. Two new messages. The first one from Chloe;
'Hey, how's the date? Hope you have a great time! C xxx'
I delete it, not wanting to reply and explain.
I thought we were made for each other, the perfect match. He even talked about moving in together, marriage, children. Everything was perfect. Until we met her. He couldn't stop himself, talking about her all the time, pointing her out on the street. I knew something was going on, but didn't want to say, didn't want to spoil our relationship. It continued for months and now... Now I don't know what has happened. I glance at my phone, the last message blinking at me. From Phillip. I brace myself, and click on it. Sobs escape me, sorrow washing over and destroying my soul. He's left me. For her. I scream, sadness transforming into anger. The dress mocks me and I turn on it, ripping the silken fabric, tearing the sash. My heart sinks, exhaustion settling. He left me. I turn the words over in my mouth, bitter and sour. Purple shreds litter the room, as does my heart and soul. I lie down and let the dark smother my thoughts, until none remain.