I take you, O Starry-eyed Beloved, to be my naïve wedded husband.
I pledge to love you conditionally, expect more of you than I’ll want to give,
wish you’d take care of yourself when you’re sick, as I do for myself.
I will ask the moon of you and wonder why
you can’t heal the wounds left by my parents.
O clueless beau, this affair is really a commitment to my own happiness;
you do not see this is the most attractive I will ever be.
Be assured I am yet deaf in all this gaiety to the exacting claims of Love
I do not realize just how much It will cost:
my greatest fears, my sacred pride.
Love will become duty and duty complacency.
I will dust off my graying hair, feel no more your trophy bride.
We will be ungrateful for the other.
We will see the dark side of this glorious sun that beams today
but no matter how deep our night it will not withstand the dawn.