A drunken soul asked me:
Will you marry me?
His words slurred however his intentions were not blurred as they spilled out of my delicate sleepers mind.
Suddenly that one question seemed all too real to me
and I smiled.
I smiled a thousand suns and a million other galaxies because of the one question.
Will you marry me?

Suddenly the images of a bright white wedding dress bombarded my vision,
the silk like clouds,
and a prominent black suit stood by its side.
Faceless yet I knew who it was.
Then the vivid daydream ended,
and I found myself sat on my bed,
in front of a phone,
typing,
'not quite yet we're too young baby **'.
Yet that answer felt wrong.

Saying yes would mean the world to me.
But being 16 is a number that marriage would regret ever meeting.
Age is just a number right?
But when it implies the world's prominent questions...
Age is a limit.
So I said maybe.

Maybe.
Maybe one day.
Maybe today.
Maybe next week, next month, next year.

But for now,
how about we settle with a promise.
I promise my dear to always love you,
cherish you.
I will never cheat.
Lie.
Or steal your love.
I am yours and you are mine.

Will I marry you?
Yes.
Just some other time.