words in lieu of sofia richie’s wedding

a wedding is an artistic debacle, full of who one once was and who they shall remain for the rest of a breath-filled eternity— a tainted name, a shadow of the light, a stealthy movement into obscurity, a display of accumulation accomplishment. 

and so, i see, my wedding is my death. 

and so, i see, My Wedding is my Rebirth. from a shell, i spring forth, fully formed. as pure and perfect as a pearl. salty to the taste, smooth to the touch. 

o lord, this is a birth that shall be reborn and has been reborn, time and time again. 

for my love has overflowed, spilling upon countertops. dripping, messily, from sharp corners onto the beaten floor. soaking into carpets, upon which feet pitter patter and carry along. many a feet have passed through these forbidden lands. soles left charred and blackened; soles left warm and wondering and waiting. no answer nor solace awaits them. nor i. 

but for now, who i was and what i have given to all, has gone. perished by the destitute minds of my audience. i prance before them, gleaming. “the stolen nymph,” they whisper, “let the thief keep his hands,” they pray. 

they i know she remains. hidden somewhere behind the altar, she scratches at the surface through poison pointed words. ripping through the seams of white dresses. the bows of her arrows shiver and quake in anticipatory silence.

she yearns to reveal herself. to all. 

so on my face, i thread a messy smile. a dimple, or perhaps two.

o priest, please wrap our hands in ribbon and kill the troublesome girl for good. devour her heart and give her mind to the man upon her. give her feet to one home, one land. give her hair to the silken pillow cases that lay her head upon a mountain of Truman’s Clouds. give her womb. give her palms. give her ears. give her eyes. “give her future. for god sake, give her past. give her life. give her.”

and close them.

but i beg of you, just one moment to bid her adieu as she will be dearly missed. perhaps solely by i.