Hold my hand
I still like the feel of cliche
Even though I know the secrecy of being married
Flawed, we still love the chaos
The tears of pregnancy, holding a combination of both me and you
The long nights wiping my tears in your drunken stumbles
I still loved you
I stopped seeing the cute in your impossible eyes
Persuasive, I slowly became the alcoholic
I switched the looking glass
Where do we go from here
No fancy words or metaphors
Is it time to sign the papers
You tell me
Keep it sincere