I'm Allergic to Wedding Rings

I tend to let the fear speak for me...because ignorance is easy

And when the love burns like last night's liquor

I let the silence simmer

I let the night wash in...I make excuses and pretend that I despise the idea of living in sin

...Some call this sinful, I call it fate. I call it compassion. I call it purpose.

You call it matrimony...and I think that may be a bit too much for me

Because who's to say that one day there won't be a white horse carrying a long-haired white man who will want me to ride with him toward the white sun on white sand

I've waited twenty-three years for Prince Charming (the Disney version) to take my hand

And I've prayed that he'll understand all the pain that I've endured...memories of airports and fake hugs, burning lungs and goodbyes

I remember that childhood didn't host nearly as many highs as it did lows

I remember regretful salutations and timid hellos

I remember being referred to as the new girl...the one nobody knows

So excuse me for designing my own fantasy...the unrealistic life-to-be that will prevent me from ever belonging to you.

I'll do what most terrified, complaint-driven women do...

And I'll pretend that I just need a little more time to perfect this life of mine

I'll push you and pull you until one heart divides into two...slices that I'll eat when I get ready...

You want steady, smooth, on-going loving and all I've got is earthquake, birthday cake(once a year) type affection. It'll change your life...

But it won't convince me that I'm destined to be your wife or anything...

Because women like me (the one's who refuse to be happy) are allergic to wedding rings