Serendipitous Scintilla

the59thstreetbridge:

clavicola:

shesanargonaut:

Vivacious

They told me you got married today, placed an heirloom ring on her wanton finger and smiled to a camera held by a sweaty man with pudgy hands. I bet you forgot to brush your hair the right way, where every piece sticks up like a jagged halo, like a crown of thorns. I bet you combed it until it was flat, until the light behind your eyes finally dimmed. They told me that her laugh was like champagne, that her smile lit up the garden as she walked down the aisle, a white paper dress blessing each blade of grass she walked upon. I bet her name was Vivian or Elise, Margaret or Shannon, something that would make the hummingbirds croon while she danced with you, while she held your hand as you ran to the car. She probably wore red lipstick and a white garter, made you sweat before the honeymoon. She probably smelt like honeysuckle and lavender, was nice to the flower girl, said she loved her father before he gave her away. You probably thought she looked beautiful.

I bet she had the softest lips you’ve ever kissed. I bet she’ll probably sing lullabies to your child, wear suits made by Chanel, save the top tier of your wedding cake until your anniversary. I’ll bet she’s never been to a beach that’s left tar on her legs or gone bowling until the manager kicks her out. I’ll bet her father really loved her. I’ll bet that when she drinks it’s just for fun, not for wallowing or despair. I’ll bet your mother likes her cooking. I’ll bet you make love to her gently, not fuck her and run. I’ll bet your hair will always stay flat from now on, that you’ll never wear your halo when you step outside.

They told me you got married today. They told me that her laugh was like champagne. I’m happy for you. I hope you make love to her gently, call her beautiful, remember your anniversary with bouquets instead of cheap gifts. I hope you love her. I hope you meant it when you said, “I do”.

I’ll remember you, savor the taste of your name as it leaves my lips for hers.

You got married today.

I’m happy for you.
I’m happy for you.
I’m happy for you.

I’ll be okay.

This is so achingly beautiful and I can’t even, ugh. 

Now this is beautiful.

(via you-are-not-for-all-markets)