The Wedding

Angie tied my heart in knots.
My fingers pulsate with blood, reaching every inch of skin.
I’d control myself for almost anything, but she hates me (sometimes).
Not all the time just sometimes.

Crickets sound an alarm.

Angie ties my legs, so I won’t leave.

Indecision plagues my dreams.

I’m so bound for life.
It’s not what I want.

It’s what she wants.

Angie called me twice just to say she loves my smile.
I missed 34 texts.
But I returned the 35th.
She could have any other guy, and hasn’t she heard the awful things they say about me?

Angie’s out of my league. (Her mother said as much.)

She insists I’m overthinking again. (Gaslighting me has become effective.)

Dad broke Angie’s aunt’s heart in high school. Her mother holds it against me because my Dad is dead.

Angie tied my heart in knots to make me think twice even three times and possibly four times — to think it over.

She’d bought me a ring and a cake and the wedding is in twenty minutes.

I swallow my insecurities.

I do.






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