Four Times.

There are four times couples talk about marriage
The first time is in the second week of being in love
She’ll wake in the middle of the night and whisper let’s get married and you’ll smile and say of course

Second time is when you two have dated long enough to know favorite candy, how many hairs she sheds in your shower, the names of all her relatives and coworkers and grade school teachers
At this point the mystery of who she was has faded.

Instead you are left with her irreversible flaws and the way she wraps her arms around your waist when she’s had too much alcohol on a Saturday night
She’ll bite your ear and ask you when you two will get married.
You drunkenly kiss her and lie
You tell her that you don’t know, whenever the time is right
She hugs you tighter as you drink away the white lie

The third time she will approach you on a random Tuesday in March
Her face will be full of frustration for her two best friends have already tied the knot and your loose end personality has her preparing a noose for your relationship.
She’ll yell at you and ask if she’s wasting her time
She will throw memories at you like a game of darts
Believing that if her words are sharp enough they will cut right to the chase
“Do you love me?”
You will stare into her eyes and try not to explode, remembering the ring that sits in your shoebox. You pray for patience and walk away from her

The fourth time you talk about marriage will be the last
You’ll awake ten years later because of a baby monitor
The sun will still be dreaming
She will arise from her slumber like one of those 60’s vampires
Her morning breath will invade your nostrils and you will question everything
In the haze of REM you will think out loud
“Why did we get married? My life has ended because of this”
She’ll look at you and laugh
Not because she didn’t understand what you said, but because you’d even ask
And you don’t mean it
And she knows you don’t mean it
But she will still kiss your forehead and remind you of the first time you talked about marriage
How you seperated the strands of her hair with your fingers as she slept
How the walmart lamp that sat on your desk was the only decoration in your room
How the freshly lit incense that glowed in the tray set the mood
How she found infinity hidden within your hazel irises when you smiled and said of course
She will laugh because marriage isn’t the end, it’s the beginning.


~J. Varina




One thought on “Four Times.”

  1. I could not stop reading this. You just painted one of the most beautiful images ever. I could see this, all of it, every word. I could feel it too, the frustration she felt, his uncertainty, her kissing his forehead. amazing.


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