Someday, you’ll marry me, you wait and see!
Cheerful children will bob upon your knee,
While hearing fantastic parables from me.
A big house on a hill, with marble windowsills,
Moments, cotton-wrapped, after we’ve been wed,
Will sanctify our homestead until you’re unstable.
Then our domicile, our alleged “wondrous” home,
Will be no boon ’cause I’ll be alone, neglected,
Scheming comeuppance for many loveless nights.
Consider: the minute you’re gone from sight,
Darkness will appoint friends, readily rejoin
Unfinished vows stolen from me, the sane one.
Still, I’ll clasp your best portrait to my breast,
Fake a smile, bespell the rest, select a karst
From which to push you once you deign return.
No mix of acrid oils, dragon toes, newts, frogs, dung,
Supposed love epistles, throes of wifely passion
Will fashion calm for the whole of my weeping.
In keeping our troth, I alone will foment dreams
Of thrusting you over, tossing a few crimson petals,
Plus pink hearts, to ensconce your many callous parts.
