A soft, gentle warmth
A touch of pillowy, overly perfumed femininity
Suffocating me into serenity

Quick, slender fingers
Bandaging my every move
Warning me against standing in the rain
And quick fingers slipped under my skin

Small, frail waist
Brushes against me as we dance
And I am pulled closer reluctantly
Into estrogen and ecstasy

Full, colorful lips
That would drive anyone else crazy
But they just seem to spit the most horrid things ever said
And they seem to sentence me
(Under the blissful vow of marriage)
To a life of torture and conviction
Underneath a piercing gaze...          




    I would rather die.
  
                


              “You may now kiss the bride.”