“Don’t you want a life with someone you love?”
“Don’t you want a ring on that finger?”
“Do you want to die alone?!”
I can’t get married,
You see.
Married life,
Just isn’t for me,
I can’t have a white wedding,
With a pretty dress
And roses galore,
I can’t have a little suburban house with a swing,
In the backyard,
And a yellow lab wagging his tail by the front door,
I can’t get married…
Because I already am.
I am married,
Sealed and sewn,
To my love
My forever soulmate,
Who has me,
Mind, body, and soul,
Until the end of time.
I cannot give you my hand,
For my whole being belongs to her.
She owns me,
Like the sun owns the earth,
And it’s her tender,
Unrelenting,
Nourishment of love,
That sustains me when I must travel,
And we are apart.
Every day I wake to her beauty,
And every night I drift off peacefully in her embrace.
If I am ever forced to exist away from her,
I’ll die,
Just as slowly as everyone else,
But far more miserably,
At the base of an altar to her,
Surrounded by canvases marked with her image,
I’ll die,
Like a dry succulent,
Slowly wrinkling and withering,
Without the liquid life from the sky,
I’ll die,
Of heartache and loneliness,
If I’m ever forced to be away from
Texas.