Bless this
our love
in its infancy,
this pink and newly-squalling thing
that brings joy
merely for its existence.
Bless it
so that we may love it
even when
it squalls in the middle of the night,
even when
we are tired,
even when
it requires so much of us
we are certain there is nothing left.
Bless us
so that we will
always know forgiveness,
always know peace,
always know truth,
even when these things seem so far away
as to be unrecognizeable.
Most of all,
bless me and my lover both,
to always remember
who we are to one another,
even as our love grows
as many wrinkles and stretchmarks as we do,
in evidence of a life well-lived.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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