Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Two Señoritas Become Señoras In Sin City

Neon reflecting in your eyes,
blessed in black lace as I lay another kiss on you,
reflecting on how I lost my suspicious mind,
as the slots sing the bridal chorus,
and our silver rings sparkle under the house lights.
“Take me home” I tell you.
I’m your souvenir,
and I want you to keep me on your shelf,
so I can be surrounded by all your sweet memories.

Palm trees pass by us,
we’re going fast in a flashy car that you rented,
and you ask me if I have regrets.
I tell the truth, but I don’t elaborate,
because you are my joy,
so I don’t want to dampen you,
drown you in the darkness I’ve finally escaped.

We stop for drinks,
kissing in the moonlight,
finger snaps when the clock strikes eleven, eleven,
because even when I fall asleep in your arms,
even with your ring on my finger and my smiling face on your Instagram grid with a hyper romantic caption that made ALL your friends roll their eyes,
I am still wishing,
waiting for it to feel real,
waiting for you to be mine, forever.

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