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Soon it will be you and me
instead of us and them

just count the days down
to when we can truly begin
to belong to each other
without them watching.

I know you’re suffocating.
It’s hard to love
when they can’t even give us silence
when they are all talking and we must listen.
They want to make sure we do everything right
they want to tell us how to love
they’d rather we seal this union by the book
instead of flow between the lines.

But I have been delivered to you
by the unstoppable steel machinations of fate
more surely than my parents would like to believe
they are presenting me, pure and clad in white
for your eager and receiving arms at the altar.

They pin tradition onto our clothes
and make a patchwork quilt of conditions
for us to sleep in, alone, as the final test
but a conquest in the flesh is not even the question
when we already occupy each other’s souls
in our private world
we have partaken of a love that cannot be contained
your life and mine are already soldered together
by choices and consequences much bigger
that what the stiff and silent symbols
of ceremonies and contracts can stand for,

but they will not understand that.
We have conquered all
except those who are on our side.
They cannot hear the music,
so our perfect dance makes no sense.
But for what it’s worth, they care about us;
let’s give them that.
And a hush, if it can be mustered
despite our inner protestations
will pass for them as obedience.

It’s a rite of passage and we’ve come so far.
It won’t be much longer now.
Just live it by the day until we say the vows
and their fears subside.

“Olga and Fabrizio | from Italy to Greece” by Vangelis Photography


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