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If and when
you do go to Seychelles,
I will be damned
if you don't shed a tear
thinking of me.
Of our dream wedding
at Seychelles,
which became a funeral
for one of us.
Don't fret, my dear,
you can still have it all.
Your dream wedding,
your cocktail after-party,
your weekend of conjugal bliss.
But I will be damned
If I don't show up
rejoicing,
merry making,
starting a Chinese Whisper,
a wildfire of words.
And then,
we can both watch
the last silken hem
Of her wedding gown disappear
into a waiting car,
into a white dirge,
never to return again.