at the reception.

I caught the bouquet
and quite immediately felt
like crying.

I don’t want this
kind of love, pressured,
where someone turns
into someone different
and puts more work into a wedding
than they ever would a marriage.

I want the love
that makes us inseparable
because we want to be,
the love that needs no witness,
only a judge and two strangers
to sign their unimportant names.

I want a modest love
that is totally ours,
not for anyone else to appraise
or clam over
concerned with what good cake it was
or how the beads had sparkled
on my long white gown.

I want love
where late nights were for conversation
and tender touches
followed by mornings
of smiles and over easy eggs.

I simply want you,
love.

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