it was a made-up Situation in which lives could be lost

At first, we had ways of talking 

That filled up the evening 

Until some things could be said. 

It was a made-up 

Situation in which lives could be lost. 

Whatever that was now grows inside 

Our bodies—a spongy, pulpy cell— 

Causing pieces of paper we hold
In our hands to appear 

And disappear. 

All I ask 

Is to take me away from this place, 

To another place, very much like 

This place, where we can meet 

And six months later 

Be married. 

You laughed and went with me. 

[Donald Britton {1951-1994} 'Valentine', from In the Empire of the Air]