I open my palms to let you vanish
like smoke into another man’s name.
If a sweater, a book, a stray hairpin
still lingers in my rooms,
come for them—
I want no traces of you held here
except the good you once were.
May your wedding glitter so bright,
With a convoy of luxury cars,
Drones and HD lenses to capture memories
Expensive vixens for maidens
And body builders for best men
May people eat to their fill and have spare.
And the wedding bills arrive like winter storms,
A reminder that luxury has its own teeth.
Perhaps you tie the knot with a priest,
A man who’s devoted to the altar,
a bishop who speaks only in scripture,
his eyes forever on heaven,
while you wonder if earth
has room for your small desires.
Or maybe the ring will slide
from the hand of an entrepreneur
A man weighted with wealth—
too many flights,
too many deals,
his shadow the only part of him
you ever see.
Perhaps a celebrity will claim you,
his every breath a news headline,
In blogs, posts, podcasts and trends
Your laughter chased by comments
A life of no silence.
Fame tastes of echoes,
not of peace.
I wish you towers of glass,
cars that hum like galaxies,
a life where the water bill alone
feels like a mortgage—
all the things you dreamed,
each carrying its hidden invoice.
Go, then, into the life
life measured in gold.
May you have it entire,
and may its weight
teach you the worth
of what we once held quiet.