How's This For Writing My Own Vows, Bitch?

I hate her
And no one can know it
She brought it upon herself
She must have
Because she is always in control
Perhaps she always was
She brought me upon herself
She had to have
Me, and brought me to my knees
Well one knee precisely
And I offered her a ring
She cried, or I thought she did
But the wet sheen may have been
A triumphant gleam
Because from then on she was
Demonic- the diabolical
Procurement of magazines
The obsessive observation of
Every
Single
Bride related broadcast known to Man
And unknown to men in general
She tortured me
With thousands of pictures of cake
Before I could take one bite
And thousands of pictures of dresses
And they all looked
More or less
Like the monstrous cakes
I’d seen before.
I told her she should just pick a cake
… and stand in it.
She didn’t like that very much.
At one point, I would have loved
To eat it off of her.
And I would have loved
To tell her that, except
At this point, I’m sure
She didn’t like me very much.
But I still love her
Even though I hate her
And no one can know it
Because a guy can’t say it
But they must know it
Because I shut up
When she told me to
And I wore a tux
And showed up
When she told me to.