Marriage is one of those crazy things
that doesn’t quite make sense to the outsiders
looking in, watching a series of events
unfold, like a rom-com or sitcom,
or even a horror movie, — psychological thriller,
They expect perfection,
after all, that’s what’s advertised.
An illusion of ‘happy ever after’
and those climaxes in films where they
stay together for the sake of ‘whatever.’
For the insiders, those in the know,
marriage is complicated.
Maybe that’s cliché, but marriage itself,
They ask, “Why are you getting married?”
and the response is generated using stock answers,
because of love?
because he/she is my best friend in the world?
because we have kids?
because I want to spend the rest
of my life with this person?
because I can’t outrun shotguns?
Then they say, “oh, that’s a great reason,
I’m happy for you.”
It’s all cliché, but we’ll continue to do it.
I did it. For all the same clichés I mentioned,
and quite a few I didn’t mention,
and somewhere in the beginning,
when things weren’t going so smoothly,
and I feared the happy ever after
wasn’t meant for me, it came to me…
I wouldn’t want to disagree with anyone else
and then have to sleep in the same bed with them,
wake up in the morning, and disagree some more
about the same topics, over and over again,
unless it was her.
There was no walking away, leaving in different cars,
waiting on that cooling off period, or forgetting the topic
completely, and moving onto the next.
It was disagree, sleep on it, disagree some more,
and agree to disagree.
It was that brief moment in a horror movie,
where all the protagonist’s friends are dead,
the monster is closing in to finish off the hero,
and then she makes it outside the house,
into an open field, looks up and sees the sun,
and, for a brief moment, feels the hope of a new day.
It’s running from danger,
finding ways to escape with your life intact,
all for those moments of hope,
where you know the monster is still lurking,
but that sun on your face is warm, and it’s a beautiful sight.