will you marry me

It was difficult to tell what turned him, on this night, and sent him drifting off into his dark and unreachable corners, miles deep within himself, seeped in poison. It was never easy to pinpoint the occurance that was the catalyst- something as slight as a tilt of the head or a shift in voice tone could set into motion a series of events within his mind that would result in him spinning off into the thick and dark brambles of his psyche. The things I said and did could not cause it directly, but they could cause it indirectly by pushing him slightly into one direction where he would be apt to bump into this, which would remind him of that, which would lead to the recollection of a girl he once thought he loved, whome he had most certainly shut out and sent away before realizing what he actually wanted was to be with her, at which point it was too late, and this would remind him of the wealth of failures that flourished alongside his life like an invasisve plant, and then he would be left to wallow in the deepest recesses of his memory and ignore me, lying inches away from him on the matress we shared, offering myself up to him in every realm to which i was capable: mentally, physically, spiritually, literally, figuratively, and sometimes-this embaresses me- proverbially. But his eyes, when his body was turned my way, saw clear through me, and his lip turned up into an expression that read- I see you, but only because the laws of matter demand it.

Under normal circumstancing, this inward plunge and the richess of unhappiness that bloomed out from inside of it like clouds of ink, was disconcerting. But tonight- it being our wedding night, the first night of our honeymoon, the commencement of the rest of our life together- it was just poor manners. It was almost entirely predictable, however, given who he was, and the momentus occurance that had just severed our lives in two: the time before we were married, tripping along happy and confused, two seperate souls amusing themselves in a word buzzing with potential, and then the time after marriage: the same two souls suddenly welded, fused together at the trunk, and left to wander the hills and plains for all eternity, or until one of the welded souls cautiously mentions the idea of a 'trial seperation' because the word 'divorice' sounds too ugly, too real.

I shouldn't be saying this. I sound as if I do not love him, as if this was not the happiest day of my life.

I do. It is. I suspect he loves me very much in return, and that this, the sacred night of our marriage, is one of the happiest nights of his life, as well. The fact that in spite of this he is still able to slip wordlessly into the calm grey ocean of his unchecked depression- that just gives me a hint as to what I am in for.