Pros of the Promise, Cons of Commitment

The blessing and curse of having a long term boyfriend in my early 20s are the constant inquiries as to the status of the second finger from my pinky on my left hand. 99.99999% of the time, the first poem found below reflects my opinions on the topic of platinum banded sparkly rings. On occasion, however, a fleeting moment of consideration causes my fingers to pause on a page of flamboyant white wedding dresses when perusing the glossy pages of of Vogue...
Don't be fooled. The bottom poem may be masked by romance, but it serves as a reminder of the perils and limited perimeters associated with young love and binding commitment. 
Maybe one day. Not today. Until then, boyfriend can add to the bracelets on my arm as opposed to rings on my fingers and dog can serve as substitute to infant. 

Limerick of Love

Don’t compromise my spirit free,

Don’t turn over a leaf on my family tree.

So YOU got a man,

And a ring on YOUR hand,

But, honey, don’t put no ring on me.

‘Till I’m good and ready, I’ll wait,

No joint bills, only hot dates,

You can’t change my last name,

I won’t stand for the same,

‘Cause I insist we hyphenate.

Can’t put a lock on my pocketbook,

Can’t matronize my on-trend look.

Don’t stick me in a kitchen,

‘Less you wanna hear my bitchin’

(And there ain’t nothin in my belly we’re gonna cook).

Maybe I’ll live on dreams in NYC,

Or snag a Pulitzer with a glossy magazine,

Our love is sweet and steady,

In five years I might be ready,

But for now, don’t put no ring on me. 

For Richer or Poorer

She sits on the boxes, two rings on her finger,

Small smile resting on her face.

Paint peeling from the walls and the faint smell of cigarettes,

Echoing throughout empty space.

Tiny kitchen, living room, bedroom and bath,

There’s no better place than right here.

It’s new and exciting, passionate and stirring,

Sprinkled with fueling hints of fear.

Crammed in only a few feet of space,

They’re love-liberated and freed.

They haven’t got much, but their dreams and ambitions,

Are the only money they’ll need. 

Designer handbags and sparkly dresses,

Compacted behind one closet door.

A fifty-two inch HD-TV,

Resting on a small dusty floor. 

After years of down pillows, vacations, and credit cards,

A lifetime of most lavish treats.

The two are convinced of no greater luxury,

Than their lone mattress and crumple of sheets.

He’ll take her hand gently when she cries over cookbooks,

She’ll coddle him when he’s not well,

Together, they’ll decide about many tomorrows,

Their love leaving an inspired trail.

It’s all about learning, growing, and thriving,

This journey in which they’ve embarked.

Day after day of the fresh and unknown, 

They’ll live on “till death do us part.”

Unloading the last of many packed boxes,

He holds her, kissing her again.

The future they’ve dreamed of, planned, and hoped for,

From here and now, it begins.