An Epithalamion

I am no good at poems or songs or or or…
I drawl, I prate,
But I can create a
veil for you with my arms
A reverberant marital chamber
between my shoulder blades, our skin
A safe haven with
the tools in my shed and my
past broken hearts, tossing shattered glass in a hearth
and mould a home.
I drawl, I prate,
I create
an ageless love
This is an epithalamion
I am sorry that it is dusk now– I have such
few words to say.

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