I Do

Just something random I wrote one day.

Someday, I want to get married.

I want to wear white,

And walk down the isle of the oldest Cathedral around.

I want rosary beads,

I want Jesus on his knees.

I want to see you, by the altar,

Waiting for me.

Okay, so that's not true.

But, but I do want to spend forever with you.

I don't think that we need a piece of paper to know that we're in love.

Or a Priest to tell you that you may kiss me.

(After all, we're both Catholics-Gone-Satanists.)

As a matter of fact, we'd walk into that church and burst into flame.

And neither of us are to blame.

It's not our fault that long night of talking,

And simply holding the other,

Led us to where we are now.

In love.

A twisted sort of love.

A love covered with thorns and gift wrapped in barbed wire.

But love all the same.

A bittersweet, happiness, and incomplete feeling of bliss.

When we talk over the phone.

Accompanied by a terrible longing.

I want nothing more than to hold you,

And you want nothing more than to kiss me.

But when at last we come face to face,

The world stops turning.

And it's only you and I.

Your arms around my waist, your lips against mine, and your scent flooding my nose.

Only us.

And when you ask me if I love you,

The only answer you'll ever get is,

"I do."

The End

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