It’s temporary tattoos laid out for grandma to try,
A flower crown tangled in fresh hair dye.

It’s scribbled vows saying you now never feel alone,
And the playlist skipping from MCR to Deftones.

It’s a black wedding gown because white didn’t feel like “you,”
Combat boots in the mud, even though they’re brand new.

It’s skipping the rules because they never made sense,
Choosing joy over Pinterest-perfect pretence.

Cover my tattoos? Do you know how much these cost?
This ink is who I am, not something to be lost.

It’s pizza on the curb with your chosen crew,
Finding confetti in your bra, and glitter in your shoe.

It’s crying, and laughing, and dancing into the night,
Not worrying if the décor’s too loud or not quite right.

It’s DIY because that makes things more fun,
It’s a handfasting ritual in the midday sun.

It’s loving out loud and saying “fuck it!” to tradition,
It’s choosing each other with punk-rock precision.

It’s your day, your way, not just following a guide,
That’s what it means to be a rock ‘n’ roll bride.