I take you, O Starry-eyed Beloved, to be my naïve wedded husband.
I pledge to love you conditionally, expect more of you than I’ll want to give,
wish you’d take care of yourself when you’re sick, as I do.
I will ask the moon of you and wonder why
you can’t heal the wounds left by my parents.
O clueless beau, this affair is really a commitment to my own happiness;
you do not see this is the most attractive I will ever be.
Be assured I am yet deaf in all this gaiety to the exacting claims of Love
I do not realize just how much It will cost:
my greatest fears, my sacred pride.
Love will become duty and duty complacency.
I will dust off my graying hair…
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