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we got married in october.
on the twenty-ninth.
exactly three years after
we both got drunk
to face our feelings
and say the truth out loud.

that was the day
we became us.
messy, imperfect,
a little bit shy.

i still don’t know
how it happened.
as if i wasn’t even there.
it’s like watching us
on hallmark
with a bag of popcorn in hand.

you were exactly
what i needed.
what i longed for.
after so many doubts,
so many wasted breaths —
thank god i kept
rooting for myself.
this one is about the surrender you dream of.
August 16, 2025
got married
at twenty-nine.
never planned it,
never wanted to —
until it felt right.

but if i could,
i’d rewind the tape,
strip it all back,
do it differently.

no family
because you’re supposed to,
no friends
because they had us at theirs.

no fortune spent
on a venue,
music and meals,
waiters and bouquet.

we got caught up
in the planning,
caught up in the daze —
the RSVPs,
the website,
the save-the-dates.

if i could do it again,
it would be just you and me,
paperwork signed
in a quiet room,
me wearing my raccoon tee.

don’t get me wrong —
i love the photos.
i loved the dress.
i loved the faces
of everyone there.
but the ceremony,
the nerves,
the performance —
that’s not us.

if i could do it again,
it would be bare,
honest,
without disguise —
just ourselves
when no one’s around.
this one is about how we both wish we had waited, and made it ours instead.
ProfMoonCake Aug 5
I am wearing my brother’s old t-shirt
when I see you dressed in white.
You’re smiling next to her.
You’ve never beamed that way before.

You look so grown up.
The boyish charm all washed up
into the greys of your mind—
where maybe, a picture of me dies.

Funny—this is our end.
You leave my revenge undone.
I imagined it would hurt more.
But my heart is steadily sad.

Treat her better than me.
Keep the other quests at bay.
Have a home.
Have children.
Have laughter.

Maybe,
when I am wearing white,
my smile will prove
that you never existed.
we were friends once,
until you shut me out,
angry that your lover —
the married one —
tried to take me
when he wasn’t allowed.

the blame poured on me.

but i begged you back,
forgiving him, and you.
call me naïve,
but i forgave myself, too —
though there wasn’t much to.

i still thank heaven
you left me sore and reeling
before my wedding.

i’d have hated for you
to show up, smiling,
immortalised in photos,
as a maid of pretending.
this one is about the friend who chose blame over loyalty, and the relief of their absence.
August 5, 2025
Jaz Jul 30
The idea of ‘forever’ used to be impossible,
The thought of ‘eternity’ simply improbable.
But then I met you and it all makes sense,
The wedding, the kids, even the white picket fence.
“Till death do us part” isn’t that what they say?
Let’s focus on life and live it to the fullest everyday.
You make me believe in “happily ever after”,
I can’t wait for us to start this new chapter.


Love, Jaz
yesterday
i took part in
a latvian wedding
even though
i had no idea
what i was doing;
we formed a circle
with burning torches
and sang and chanted
and screamed
performing rituals
that the fathers
of their fathers
once performed

i was told that
the male guests
had given the groom
the strength of a bear
while the bride
was given wisdom
and encouragement
for the years to come
the bride and groom
were then bound
with symbolic chord
blessings and song
joining them together
by hand and heart

without being able
to speak the language
i had to guess or
discreetly ask
for explanations
from other guests
to understand
the significance
of each part;
watching the bride
and groom however
it was clear immediately
their love needed
no translation
A crippled dove is dying; her wound a dusky red
in the maple's crook she's hiding.
Her heart her wedding song; herself the newlywed.

A carmine blaze upon her breast to mark the place she's bled
like a penitent confiding
A crippled dove is dying; her wound a dusky red

The purple splay of sunset now reveals a fraying thread
in her tiny breast subsiding--
her heart her wedding song; herself the newlywed.

Beneath her injured wing, she hides her tawny head
as the sun is lower gliding
a crippled dove is dying; her wound a dusky red.

The summer grass, soon bereft, would take her place instead
except for circumstance dividing--
her heart her wedding song; herself the newlywed.

The presiding night has finished; the ceremony said--
her new master toward the threshold swiftly striding.
A crippled dove is dying; her wound a dusky red--
her heart her wedding song; herself the newlywed.
Alexis Jun 30
Today’s the big day!
Everyone from near
And far have come.
The opera singers
Began to hum their tune
As I walk down the asle.

My gown is stroked
Upon by a firm hand.
His hand then wraps around
Me tightly.

The ceremony ends with a
Nightly kiss.
My body is shaking from
The pleasures from my
Man’s body.
From the gentle strokes
To the ******* flowing
One by one.
mjad Jun 17
You stood at the front of the church
I walked to you and looked in your eyes
Vowing to a life of no pain or hurt
Vowing to a life of love and peace
Until death parts us let us be
in love and happy, eternally
the man i've written about since 2020 is now my man forever, wild
inthewater Jun 4
9 years ago
your son was 9, you were forty-two
your wife was nearing forty

I was eighteen
daughter 1, fourteen; daughter 2, thirteen
and daughter 3 was only 6

we've experienced anniversaries,
birthdays, funerals
(my dad, my grandpa, my papa)

breakups, and new boyfriends
(just with your daughters, really)

graduations, retirements,
family arguments
chaos and heartbreak induced by alcoholism,
(and now years of sobriety)

first home purchases
(your daughters and myself)
(your son is living with me this summer)

and a pandemic...

much has happened since June 17th, two thousand and sixteen
but the biggest thing yet
will be this Saturday
June 7th, twenty twenty-five

daughter 1 is twenty-two, now
and in three days she gets married
your son is eighteen, now
and he will walk her down the aisle
(he told me he cries whenever he thinks about it)

your wife is nearly forty-nine
she will be there with her boyfriend
(they moved in together, in the house they built)
(they're both sober)
(she referred to him as her husband the other day)

daughter 3 is fifteen
(she told me she doesn't really remember you)

I am twenty-seven, now
and I will read a passage from the Bible at your daughter's wedding -
(just like I did at your funeral)
My cousin gets married this weekend... feeling very bitter-sweet; her dad died by suicide 9 years ago (anniversary of the death is in two weeks); my dad died unexpectedly three years ago. Reflecting on how life changes, and it also stays the same. My cousin asked me to read a passage at her wedding; 9 years ago, my aunt asked me to read a passage at my uncle's funeral.
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