Honey, you go on ahead
and you have that June wedding.
I don’t care if it’s the second or third one!
Buy the floofiest, whitest, tackiest
dress you can find.
Cut it so low your cleavage
might make the minister backslide. 
Hell, if it’s the fourth jaunt down the aisle
it ought to be the fanciest one yet,
in my humble, single, opinion!
Tempt fate and invite all y’all’s exes
and get you some real tall shoes.
I wonder how many women
are lying awake tonight,
dreaming of that magical day
and a romantic getaway to Gatlinburg
I wonder about romance and the bonds created
and flower arrangements and expectations 

as I lie pensively in bed munching on Doritos
and eating a Goober grape sandwich
and watching trash teevee
at eleven thirty at night.
Never a bridesmaid, never a bride.
Y’all have fun, don’t worry about me. 
Never a regret, neither. 
‘Cept maybe a few crummy sheets.