fake silver

we are fake silver turned gold. i must have hoped for it
real hard, i must have prayed a lot, too, like
an alchemist of the curious kind.
who knows, i only remember having cried
myself to sleep. i thought it was a pardoned
(or abandoned?) dream, a quick-fixed moon of honey
staying stuck in memories.

i put it on my left hand's middle finger, i heard
that it means, i don't want no other, it is less of
a heavy promise, and more of a gesture
that speaks my mind. i will live with it,
i will, pardon me, if i shall die with it,
i will marry you like that, with
a plain white dress, sandals and loose hair.
(oh pardon me again.)

you have no idea, or maybe you do.
i wooed you first, (was it really me?)
you wooed me then, (you did it, or did i do it
again? no way.) but it doesn't matter
as we are both in it now, all of a sudden,
the cutest, the sweetest,
like nothing was ever broken.
out of nowhere and everywhere,
it happened and it happens that
sometimes fake silver means golden.