Life has its way with you. I am living, surprised at how so quickly my love has slowed to friendship. As if my heart has undergone a hard reset--emotional stirrings reorganized. I look at you sometimes and wonder how I kept you for so long. I don't believe in marriage any more. At least, not in the traditional sense of the word. How can I promise what is not yet mine to give? How can I commit the me of two or 20 years from now, the woman who has not yet arrived? Things change. All the time. It is the way of the world. I can't ask you or her to remain tethered to me and my slippery ways. I am completely content walking next to you, but please remember, this skin is not your home. At times I feel like I've been sold a bill of goods. For years, I choked down the fantasy of marriage like shards of broken glass until it ripped open my throat. Warm salty liquid is pooling in my mouth. And now, there is blood on my hands. Blood on my hands.
