If I asked a woman

If I asked a woman to be my wife
We might be a year or so in our relationship
I’m sure there were times I made her cry
And sometimes I wouldn’t know why

She would be like the feel of being trapped in a mystical field
Blooming bright in the night
A light tower
Calling my name
Amid the storm

The thought of blurting out the question
And forking out money for the perfect circle
Laced in gold
In the thought of her imaginary rejection
Why would I murder myself with this type of reflection?

It’s probably the old ghost whispering
Making known the grave with my name
It’s probably knives I forgot to pull out
Old wounds in the heart

If I ever ask a woman to be my wife
We might be a year of so in our relationship
It would be good for her sake
to put my old self to sleep.

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