"weds" poems
tues.
exhausted piano teeth mozart pere
gnashing slashing sound barrier
stretching zoology beyond the bird
cannibals in the a-z azimuth
weds.
mirage of red awnings all-night resort
cannibals in the azimuth stairwell décor
thurs.
cold as leprosy embraced
yet somehow curled
fri.
frail departure voice to ****
height hair duck drake
cold as geology young rocks flame
(hidden within the blink of eye)
4.9k
I am so sick of love.
Loyalty, honesty, dedication, compassion, compromise, for better or for worse (when it's always worse)!
I am so sick of love, and all the drama that accompanies it.
Most of all what makes me absolutely ill, in a brain and heart exploding in anger and disappointment respectively, kind of way,
are the Lies!
"You're all I want", "I need you", "I need a friend", "I still love you", "I will always love you", "Is there any chance?", "Can we get back together?",
all the attention seeking, melodramatic, time-consuming crap!
Followed by guilt. That nauseous feeling of, what if? What If? WHAT IF?
Was it the right thing? Will I find another? What about the broken heart?
The sleepless nights of pondering how to end things, the poems written and unpublished, the practising in front of the mirror, cigarettes to channel the guilt elsewhere...
For crying out loud!
After years of guiding me, I should have given way more credit to my instincts.
And now for the new chapter. Embracing an old art, new to me. Currently so underrated and misjudged by priests, mothers and newly-weds.
The philosophy of zero expectations to infinite pleasure and everything in between.
No regrets, no time wasted (and hell was my time wasted on you!#$#$#$).
Time to give up my soul to the darkness, (God, I hope you'll understand I still love and believe you, but I prayed and prayed. I can't wait any more!) and my body to the sailor boy!
Absolutely No Strings Attached.
No bull **** no promises, just *** (and cuddles), a lot of *** (and waking up next to him?)
Anyway, NO STRINGS ATTACHED! [Except for the invisible, really strong one. He is irresistible after all and I'm a dreamer who never, ever learns, and follows her instincts way too much!]
One thing's for sure.
I am so profoundly sick of love!
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 6:04 PM UTC
A nobler king had never breath--
I say it now, and said it then.
Who weds with such is wed till death
And wedded stays in Heaven. Amen.
(And oh, the shirts of linen-lawn,
And all the armor, tagged and tied,
And church on Sundays, dusk and dawn.
And bed a thing to kneel beside!)
The bravest one stood tall above
The rest, and watched me as a light.
I heard and heard them talk of love;
I'd naught to do but think, at night.
The bravest man has littlest brains;
That chalky fool from Astolat
With all her dying and her pains!--
Thank God, I helped him over that.
I found him not unfair to see--
I like a man with peppered hair!
And thus it came about. Ah, me,
Tristram was busied otherwhere....
A nobler king had never breath--
I say it now, and said it then.
Who weds with such is wed till death
And wedded stays in Heaven. Amen.
3.3k
To death do us part
I will love you with all of my heart
any issue will be resolved with a kiss
and when you’re away you will be missed
Good bye I say with a kiss on your cheek
and a loving smile, I feel like a geek
I sit at home, awaiting your arrival
but temptations lurk and I cling for survival
My phone rings early in the morning
and the doctors tell you’re now an angel soaring
I cloak myself in black tears falling from my chin
and I walk up to your casket dark
and grim
I feel your small hands to innocent to be dead
sorry says people you were just newly weds
to death do us part
I loved you with all of my heart
and with one final heavy sigh
I tell you your last goodbye
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 10:20 AM UTC
If that Shirazi Turk would succeed in winning my heart
I'll give up Samarkand and Bukhara, solely for her Indian mole
Serve remained wine, Saki, cause you can't find in the paradise
Such a place as Ruknabad stream and Musall's gardens
Oh! these gypsies who are sweet and set the city to chaos
They drained heart from patience, as Turks take the pillages
My sweetheart's beauty doesn't need my imperfect love
How a beautiful face is in need of paint and powder and mole?
Talk about minstrels and wine, don't seek universe's secret
That is that, no one solved and will solve this enigma by logic
I knew beforehand from ever-improving charm that Joseph possessed
That love finally would bring Zulaikha out of her innocence
You talked to me badly, God forgive you, you said it well
Bitter answer is proper for that red-colored sugar-sweet lips
My soul, listen to advice, for blissful youths like more
That wise old's advises more than their own sweet lives
Hafez! you told Ghazals and pierced pearls, come sing fine
For your harmony in your poetry, Heaven weds Soraya!
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 12:10 AM UTC
Oh, you got your politico pals
Posting stuff about them blues-and-reds
Oh you got your new-age pals
Posts about their chakra dreads
Oh you got your pervy pals
Posts about their whips and spread
Oh you got your journal pals
Posts about their EX and meds
Oh you got your comic pals
Posts of grumpy cat in bed
Oh you got your trendy pals
Posts of food and celeb weds
Oh you got your gossip pals
Posts about what so-so said
Oh you got your music pals
Posts of bands on every thread
Oh you got your mother pals
Posts of how their babies fed
Oh you got your nightlife pals
Posts of each local they’ve tread
Oh you got your righteous pals
Post of what you need instead
Then you got your artsy pals
Oh someone shoot me in the head!
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
I'm divorcing my demons
To engage in angelic flight
Your proposal of grace
Weds me to Light
© JL Smith
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 5:29 PM UTC
I’m sorry I took a month to respond.
I’m late because I didn’t know what to say.
I say “I know this is still really painful”
but what I’m really trying to say is “I’m sorry.”
And by “I’m sorry” I mean
“I’ll never forgive myself for the pain I caused you.”
Caused us both.
And by "us both" I mean this was hard for me too
because I’m the one who had to make the decision.
And by make the decision I mean I’m the one
who had to take a real, hard look at us, you know?
I’m the one who had to tug the thread
and feel the unraveling in my hands,
and watching the unraveling in your eyes,
and do the unraveling of our life.
I’m the one who had to face what neither of us would.
We hadn’t had *** in months.
We were newly weds.
And I’m sorry we were newly weds.
We should’ve been newly broken up.
And what I mean is that
I shouldn’t have married you in the first place.
I shouldn’t have planned a wedding with you.
I shouldn’t have said yes.
And what I mean is that I felt the burning in my belly
that night you asked me to choose you as my knight,
and to assume the role as your queen.
And by burning in my belly I mean I knew
even then that my “yes” was tentative
and that it felt more like a “maybe”
and that maybe I wouldn’t go through with this at all.
But what do you say, other than an emphatic “yes,"
to the man who has loved you for a decade?
And what I mean to say is that the “yes” wasn’t mine.
It was theirs
and it was yours
and it was ours,
but it wasn’t mine.
What I had was “no.”
Because what do you say, other than an emphatic “no,”
to the man who has tried to love you for a decade?
So my “no” sounded a lot like a “yes” that night
and I’m sorry I got them confused.
And what I mean is that you deserved better.
Not someone better than me; that’s not what I mean.
What I mean is that you deserved courage.
You deserved all of the courage
I let hide behind the moon that night,
and all of the courage
I tucked toward the back of our closet those months,
and all of the courage
I swallowed in favour of a more palatable flavour that year.
And what I mean is that I should have said “no.”
That you deserved “no.”
And all of this is just to say that I ****** up,
and that maybe I was stuck in the Upside Down
where weakness looked like strength,
and absconding looked like leaving boldly,
and “no” looked like “yes,”
and “I do” sounded a whole lot like “forever”
didn’t it?
“To my love, forever”
I said.
Emphasis on the comma before “forever”
because I never could pass up an opportunity to be pretentious.
And what I mean is that
I’m sorry I got your ring engraved with “forever”
when “forever” meant more like a year-ish
and I’m sure as hell positive
that you haven’t felt like “my love,”
have you?
And so I’m sorry I said “forever”
when what I meant to say was “not ever.”
How freeing that would’ve been for us.
And by freeing I mean I could’ve saved us both from this mess.
From this d-i-v-o-r-c-e that we now have tattooed on our hearts.
And so I’m sorry I didn’t say all that I meant to say.
And that it’s too late to say any of it now,
because now we’re strangers,
but what I meant to say that day is that
I love you
and
I want to leave you.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
Mud drenched months, so soporific,
I love and find you beatific
Envelope too my heart and brain
In a gauzy shroud and tomb of pain
The south wind plays on this great plain,
Where nightly creaks the weathervane,
With ebbs and flows, my soul sings
As it extends its raven wings
My heart is filled with dreary things
As it does when frosts descend,
Oh shaded seasons, my regal friends!
Your shadows sweetly lingering,
- Unless in darkness, like newly-weds,
Numbing the pain of a hazardous bed.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 9:18 AM UTC
Bossa nova, Barcelona, Box and two weeks over,
Music to get hold of,
Newly weds to Right said Fred,
Calypso spot light sun beams down a twinkle baked shoulder to strike a pose.
Bossa nova, what's on, record it,
Promote It with some guile,
He She who stole it,
With limelight their staged arena owned it,
He She dished out the smiles,
They clapped as the show survives,
They danced to each others beat,
Bebop a lula its jive came unique.
Accapella, Bossa nova, Hosanna from the highest,
Bossa nova, a rock n roller, a ballad till midnight,
Encore if you got through the night in hindsight,
Stage Fright had this moment,
What is going on?
Bingo numbers,
Feathers a house!
Bossa nova it aint over till its over as for a starlight it may strike the board with a star face in the sun.
Now maybe, maybe not that's a Bossa nova!
O'Reily@20082014
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
It was a gloomy morning with mild sunlight
I opened the letter box
T’was a wedding card
A bright white with an eternity symbol in the corner
I knew the handwriting
The very pull at the end of every word
Written in well learnt cursive
****
Even their names seemed to be in sync
The made for each other kind
It was, as if,
Those two names were meant to be written side by side
With just one word in the middle
‘weds’
*******
I went inside my room and shut the door
Walked to my table
Switched on my newly fixed table light
And sat with a blank sheet of paper
Wishing my life could be
As new, fresh and uncontaminated as that A4
Unlike the crumpled brown paper
Which had made its way to the bin
*******
After sitting with the letter for an hour
I asked myself –
What do I write to him?
Should I ask him the cause of this invitation?
Is it a bitter revenge?
Or a way to reconcile a relationship which will
Never be the same
Trying to tamper with our situation
Was like pricking on a wound which was almost healed
Which would heal
Stop hurting me
But the scar would remain
As a reminder
Of something which taught me
How pain becomes pleasure
****
Instead,
I opened my drawer
And took out an old letter
Which held emotions of a sixteen year old lover,
Who didn’t care about my beauty or past?
Who was brave enough to write,
In that same cursive
“I love you”
With that same personal pull at the end
I poured a bit of my blood
Mixed with tears into that pouch of memories
And sealed it
And sent it
That was enough hate from a lover
On his wedding day
Enough
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
How would their lives be? Would new houses be like newly weds? Maybe there is a history, like a new house on old ground is just a new regeneration of that house, even if it looks nothing like the old one. What if houses you seen in the “sketchy” neighborhoods are houses just like the owners? Maybe they looked beautiful and their surroundings blinded them and slowly let the paint rot away. What would it feel to be demolished? What if old beautiful houses were so wise? Or would they be false like the botox seen today? Would you remember it in your new form? What if the footprints of every person who ever walked upon the floor stayed there? Imprinted deep into the wood, always to be hidden? Man, what if houses could remember everyone who ever lived there? I wounder if houses loved or hated their families, like pets do with owners? Would the New York apartments have the personalities of the poor families, struggling art students, and free lance actors? Would the houses in L.A. always be singing a song? Would boarded houses just sit, projecting it’s past lives. Living it in order over and over cause it is better than being alone? You wait for those kids down the street to meddle in your backyard; losing their virginities in your dusty attic. What would houses think about right before wrecking ball?
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC
To the times I said I wouldn't like you,
But I'd look into your eyes,
And every ounce of self control,
Couldn't fight away the butterflies.
For the tongue tied moments when I'd see you,
And every pretty, witty thing I ever wanted to say,
Completely left my mind.
To every awkward silence,
Where I was too busy daydreaming,
To say anything meaningful.
What is love?
Is it like a one way street,
Where you either go with it,
Or you get run over?
So this is for the newly weds.
The lovers,
The taken,
The single.
It's for the heartbroken,
The confused,
The lost,
And the gone.
What is love?
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 11:12 PM UTC
Look at the sky, this can't be true,
The waves of passion splashing bright hue;
Wetting the world with sweet vapours, an aura so new,
Am I in the cradle of heaven? I have no clue.
I fear my churning emotions, vulnerable and timid,
Slumber is now a traitor under my closed eyelid;
Shhh … those are whispers of Aphrodite and Cupid,
Silencing all my doubts,”is it a sin I did?”
Never before have I fought a battle so sweet,
Arrows struck, heart swelled with its heat;
I surrender; in this war I gladly accept defeat,
Laying all my weapons at your feet.
I was a delicate glass, being filled with the royal wine,
Careful not to spill an ounce, even under the stress of a tine;
Could I enquire, such addictive taste exists in whose vine?
A magic which could make nectar out of nicotine.
How could a slight gaze invoke such mountains of desire?
Veins which never existed now tingle with fire;
In resonance to your presence, my senses change attire,
I can’t find my heart. Did you steal, borrow or hire?
Roars of celebration, as clarity weds confusion,
Heart and mind continue to exist as characters of fiction;
Is it LOVEocracy or LOVEarchy ? Hold election,
How have I been conquered? I need depiction.
The pixels of sanity escape, leaving behind tender pores,
How do I fill these? I spot only a single recourse;
To inhale the oxygen of happiness, I have none but a single source,
Who can squeeze, topple, and bounce my heart, without a trace of force.
I would reform from a flower to a drooling leaf,
Am lustrous and luminous only under your ownership, you thief!
You wouldn’t depart from this sack of gold is my belief,
I would always possess a memory of our time is my relief…
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 10:50 AM UTC
let’s love the lawn
sweetheart
let’s trim the lawn;
let’s get it cut
and neat and fine;
let’s do the groovy lawn dance
baby
so the neighbors will be
green as nourished grass
let’s feed the lawn
sweetheart
all chemicals and fertilizers;
let’s read the warnings first
baby:
*keep away from eyes
wear a face mask
and spread generously
on lawn*
let’s keep the lawn beautiful
and pleasant
like the ancient fields of Albion,
sweetheart;
it’s time for the weed-killer sprays
and conscientious as we are
we use only enviro-friendly
so let’s read the instructions
baby:
*Keep spray away from drains
and eyes and skin
and do not spray before rain*
Ah, come on
ladies and gentlemen
of our distinguished
blue ribbon suburbs;
out all with your chemicals
and all our pesticides
to **** the grubs and such pests
come all, Old Ken
and newly-weds Lily and Peter
and new-arrivals Tan and Goh
we’ll show you how;
come sweethearts
come let’s dance in the fields of cherished suburbs
and let the earth yield a great big burb
this is the way
we spray chemicals
this is the way we **** our weeds;
this is the way we fertilize our lawns
this is the way we spray pesticides
early morning
every Spring and Summer
this is the way we do it
early morning
every Spring and Summer
so let’s love the lawn
sweetheart
let’s trim the lawn;
let’s get it cut
and neat and fine;
let’s do the groovy lawn dance
baby
so the neighbors will be
green as nourished grass
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 2:58 AM UTC
Oh, Oh --
She's so Tiger Chic
yeah, she's the kinda woman
the kind you wanna meet--
when you pass her
when you pass her on the street--
it could be in London /it could be in L.A.
a starry night in New York
or, in the middle of the day
you'll just be so happy
she happened across your way--
Oh, Oh -- and she's so Tiger Chic --
she's so badass in the Boardroom
she's even badass when she's sweet
Oh, Oh -- a badass kinda woman
the kind you really wanna meet.
Oh, Oh --and she's so Tiger Chic
she's doing calculous in her head--
n' she wants it poetic in her bed--
Oh -n' btw, she wants the pre-nup before she even weds--
She's an independent woman
yeah, she's so on her game
she's the kinda woman
that's gonna hyphenate her name
Oh, Oh-- n' she's so Tiger Chic
the kinda woman
you'd beg to meet.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 4:45 AM UTC
When a woman explores the deeper meaning of who she is, she is unstoppable.
When she decides to dry her eyes, apply those red lipstick on her lips and become irrisistable.
Her mind is made up, because she was tired of being fed up.
That woman is fierce, driven and is prepared to shatter glass ceilings because she has now found the meaning.
Skipping empty pages hiding her stories...she now fill them with words she was once so afraid to speak, love made her weak.
Look at her now, shattering glass ceilings and she wears her pain well,
She was overwhelmed but she overcame. Without fame she turned heads. I see that woman in me, once possessed by feelings.
She is the daughter of the father who weds her mother...shattering glass ceilings.
S.B
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:22 PM UTC
The man at the studio doesn't like us
we aren't pretty as the teens
not dazzling like the newly weds
our faces are pretty grim
smiles are once a river
foreheads dry riverbeds
eyes hold no commotion
but he does it for money
and winds up quick.
We walk to the river
where under the grey February sky
she plays with our reflections
babbling and breaking us
into unreadable pieces.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 10:00 AM UTC
when you poem me,
*and the sudden tumble
into a mesmerizing moment,
is a felling of a tree, that
everyone can hear, anywhere,
forest everywhere,
suddenly, I will know you,
no introduction required...
to be with you, and save my
day, my heart stolen, and to my
captor, I hereby surrender,
capitulate completely, quick quiet,
and we are three thrilled together, a triumphant triumvirate,
for each other and a unity of
1 + 1= 3
is a new counting,
a unique
formulation
a formidable forming
a mutual following,*
a fellowship
nml
Weds.
June 18 3025
In the sunroom
Jun 18, 2025
Jun 18, 2025 at 12:23 PM UTC
now i had a cousin named named Patrick
who had a lovely partner named Michael.
let me tell you, i did not believe in the myth of true love
until i saw the look in their eyes when they saw each other;
until i saw the way Michael looked at Patrick and the way Patrick looked back
with that tiny twinkle in the corner of his left eye.
naturally, i saw nothing wrong with the
situation. love is love and what they had was definitely
love.
they had a beautiful wedding on a beach in France
and they both still call that day,
that moment the best moment of their entire lives.
all was well and the newly weds honeymooned
all throughout Europe and the world seemed at peace.
until, they got off the plane that landed them right in Houston, Texas.
they walked out of the terminal hand-in-hand,
some "aw"ed, some looked away in disgust, but one young man
threw a balloon full of paint of my dear friend Patrick and spat on Michael
as he yelled the word *******
the new couple hadn't prepared themselves for this.
time continued to pass and they soon bought their
first house. a lovely little two-bedroom, 700 square foot home.
news quickly spread around the neighborhood of they new
**** couple" down the street. one day,
Michael got home for work to find the garage
spray painted with blue ink reading, "God hates ****
after hours of scrubbing away at the blue ink
that polluted the air, the couple finally learned a few rules.
they were not to show affection in public.
they were not to be open about their sexuality.
they were not to be themselves as long as someone else might see.
the years flew by and this love dwindled down to
nothingness.
the flame of that red glowing candle was put out.
years of avoiding public affections all for the fear
of being called a ******
after three years of marriage the couple split.
claiming to no longer be in love, but they knew,
i knew, that they wanted to be in love.
they just didn't want to live in fear of being called the "F" word.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 7:47 PM UTC
Once I was stuck in Acapulco
in the rainy season,
for I didn't check the weather for
that time of year
when in need of a
quick getaway
when it is the rainy season
down Acapulco way,
it rains for a season,
not a day
and the roads are
the rivers unmarked on any map
apparently I was not the only idiot
a hotel full of newly weds
with nothing to do after,
after doing what newly weds do,
they, these many couples
walked,
verily they cruised in D1
around in endless circles on the floor
around the newel post,
of the outdoor lobby,
jailed by the down pouring unceasing
like goldfish in a pond,
I fascinated watched,
expressionless, in motion constant,
speaking not a word to anyone,
even joined in for a splayed day ^
got the hell outta there,
went to Mexico City,
made me another
steve mcqueen quick getaway
had me a fine time there
over thirty yrs later,
the image of the
the fish pond of white humans
swimming in silent circles
still gives me
nightmares
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
what does it mean
when the dreams you dream
years later, in waking find you?
in response it replied:
material things one weds
will need to be shed
for purpose and light to be true...
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
I have seen my share of old men
Sitting early in diners:
Widowers, perhaps,
Or never-weds,
Seldom women,
Excepting tired street people,
Tattered bags sprawling
Disheveled out of the wet,
Leaving only when the manager
Steps up with a bottle of soapy water
And a cleaning rag,
The polite symbol of
"It's time to go."
Fast food,
No place to rest,
Up and moving before the family crowd
Can see the riff-raff
Who sat these chairs earlier,
Who hunker now on some lee-side wall
Against the chill spring rain.
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
Yes,there's nothing I love more than turbulance.
The breath taking,
eye widening,
teeth clenching thrill of it all..
And what I love about it most is your face when your legs are spread far apart like newly weds after an ugly divorce,
nevermind the other passengers,
that fine attendant asked if she could join.
I'm known as a Pilot too,so lemme assure you of a safe arrival,
this flight could be waaay better than the peak of most highs,
and can never be spoilt..I never knew a cat that was ever this moist.
Or a fish that never needed water,but I don't eat mine raw,
unless the caviar looks right.
So lemme show you the skies,
soar all planes of *********** and ofcourse I'll open your mind.
You can keep your heart,
what's below your diaphragm is what I want,
only if the diaphragm's motion can be paused from below and above..
Welcome to the Mile High Club.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
Since its inception, Aarong has been determined to bring about effective changes in the lives of artisans and underprivileged rural women, by facilitating and advertising their handicraft. Today, it has become the foundation of independent cooperative groups and family-based artisans. Now, it is known as a contemporary life outlet, among people not only in Bangladesh, but all over the world.
This wedding season, you can adorn yourself with one of Aarong’s festive looks. On November 17, Aarong launched their latest product line – the Wedding Collection.
Aarong has introduced a series of looks and styles to try out this wedding season for brides, the bridal entourage and the wedding attendees. What’s more, they are promoting Jamdani, Muslin and Katan sarees as the choice of outfits to wear for the bride and her close ones.
The line is introducing bridal wear in some uncommon hues, moving away from the routine “red” to peach, pink, purple, blue, green and beige. These unconventional colours can also look grand on the big day, and this is the idea that the creators of Aarong are attempting to establish.
Jamdani saris will be incorporated with remarkable embroidered and printed blouses, helping ladies look regal on their special day. The wedding entourage also has a lot to look forward to. This special compilation includes Katan and Jamdani sarees, paired with embroidered blouses, ideal for any reception soiree. Katan sarees can be worn in bright or bold colours and contrasted with multi-layered pearl jewellery and complementing blouses. Furthermore, the collection also includes Jamdani saris in light shades such as light pink, peach and white, and these can be paired with frilled petticoats or dupattas.
Along with gold, the creators encourage the brides to try out silver jewellery with complementing stones, layered pearl neckpieces and hair ornaments. Hence, the looks are a mix of modern and traditional, and are not only advised for the bride, but also for the close relatives or wedding attendees.
This collection also comprises of saris, appropriate for the bridesmaids, the cousins, the sisters, and even the parents of the to-be-weds. Aarong has prepared similar ‘matching’ attires for the bride and the groom, that are perfect for particular occasions like Holud, Mehendi, Aiburo Bhaat, and so on. For the bridegroom, as well as his family and friends, there is also an exclusive range, that includes Sherwanis and Panjabis. Aarong also provides a variety of gift options such as ceramic dinner set, cushion and bed covers, as well as women’s accessories, such as bags and purses.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/backless-formal-dresses
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 2:00 AM UTC