By Brittany Leitner
When did we grow old enough to marry?
You did it without me.
She’s real, is she?
She has a head, you say?
She has everything.
Gathered in the presence of God
I turn to Him and say,
There, there matchmaker. Is it you
who doesn’t know what He’s doing after all?
Hold your peace! He shouts back,
You’re reminding me why
You weren’t good for him in the first place.
All my love
Sits with me in silence.
Do you remember sitting next to me on these pews?
Meeting on Sundays, praying hard, thinking about each other
I was sixteen when you eased me behind the wheel of your car,
giving me permission to go.
There was nothing like that freedom –
speeding without the fear of crashing,
I didn’t know what to do with that kind of love,
so I took too much, and then I crashed it.
You shouldn’t hand out love at sixteen
I go on and forget I had it.
At thirty, now, you’re thirty-two,
I’m hearing you say it;
You shouldn’t hand out love at sixteen.
Before I began, I was already through.