jocelyn, i heard they're locking your wedlock this July. 

you know it's a small town. rumors are bound to spread faster than a summer wildfire. it reached my doorstep before your white invitations did. i was disappointed that you weren't there to break the news. just your mother and her 2010 honda civic, leaving tire marks long enough to stretch my heart loose.  maybe it would've been better. i wouldn't know what to say. i never know what to do when it comes to you. 

they said the party would be small. closer to an elopement than an actual wedding. your family were a closed up methodists. never for big celebrations. just close family and friends, they said. i wasn't both, i guess. but it seems that we both agreed that i had to be there. 

honest as you are, it itched my ear when they're keep saying he's making a honest woman out of you. what were you thinking, jocelyn? going for a good-for-nothing son of a gun. you could've just run away from this city, maybe begin a life on the shore. not fancy nor church approved, but entirely yours. you light the whole city with your laughter and now you're walking down the aisle wearing a pan am smile. 

oh jocelyn, maybe it's just jealousy speaking. do i want to be your husband or do i want one my own, it's my own misery to dwell upon. you do look beautiful in that dress. but with every morphemes pouring down your lips, it's getting harder to keep tears falling down mine. i kept seeing the phantom of your burlesque days, radiant and in my arms. i kept seeing versions of myself, melting into the same altar. ah jocelyn, i really want to go home now.

because of course i want to go home. you know i was never the best and letting things go. the sun is setting now. they're lighting the fairy lights and you stepped down to mingle with the guests. i recognized your aunts, the cousins from your dad's side of the family, the hot uncles. i just stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with my hands, or with the scraps of my heart. they offered champagnes, but what i want is a can of ice cold root beers that's just balsamic enough to makes it disgusting. what i want is the color of your eyes, knitted into gigantic persian rugs. what i want is escape. what i want is my home cat that died when i was eleven. what i want is not here nor anywhere. jocelyn, you're one hell of an evil woman.

it killing me. i don't even care to pretend, cause it's just killing me real hard. you're not running. i'm not objecting. you're marrying a man and i'm melting into static sugar. what the hell is static sugar even supposed to mean? i lost. i lost. i whispered to you. congratulation J. the crowd whispers. liar liar supernova on fire. fucking childs game. i took my car keys and left the church. 

your wed is down locked, so be it.

our wed is down closed, so be it.

so be it.

so be it.