I hope it rains on my wedding day
and i hope he knows that my favorite
thing in the entire world is the purple
patches of bruises in the morning sky
and i hope he can taste the poems i
wrote for him burning on his lips after
i've kissed him, staining his mouth with
red lipstick and rotten cigarette smoke
i hope he knows that when i cry i don't
want him to convince me that everything
will be okay, because he shouldn't make
promises he can't keep, but instead he'll
remind me of the time we drove to the
beach at 2 in the morning simply because
we wanted to feel the ocean hugging
our naked bodies under the pale moonlight
and i hope that when we're both in our
60's he buys random plane tickets to
Paris, to Rome, to the little town buried
somewhere in the depths of Spain
and i hope he always makes my coffee
too sweet and leaves our bedroom window
open at night to let the air kiss our faces
and i hope that he's curious about
everything just like i'm curious about how
his eyes remind me of constellations
and meteor showers i've never even seen