I can’t wait until the day I die.
Die in my grooms arms.
On my wedding day.
God I pray to be wrapped in fucking couture.
If only the richest man wasn’t so fucking poor.
He could me couture.
Versace the design.
The design left imprinted from the champagne in the wine.
Glasses clinking towards the embrace of the man and man.
Wed me in white.
Forgive me for losing my virginity.