13 Hauntingly Beautiful Ceremony Readings for Your Til Death Do Us Part-Themed Wedding
This post is for all you guys, gals, and ghouls out there who want to incorporate your morbid interests into your wedding day—without compromising on romance!
If you're a newcomer to the wedding industry, you might be surprised to learn that goth aesthetics for weddings are having a real moment. Actually, they've been having a moment for quite some time, with no sign of fading. Couples refer to this trend cheekily as "Til Death Do Us Part"—often weaving the phrase into invitations and decor, drawn from the grim final line in traditional wedding vows. Popular elements of this theme include everything from black wedding gowns to skull-laden decor, and some couples even go so far as to choose cemeteries for their venues.
The marriers I've known who embrace this theme often do so for different reasons. Some are former emo kids who feel more at home with skulls and candles than with flowers and fairy lights. Others prefer the elegance of dusk and dark academia over the bright whites of traditional afternoon weddings. Some just love Halloween so much that it’s the only wedding theme that feels right for them. I even know one 'Til Death bride who is an actual mortician!
Whatever the reason, 'Til Death Do Us Part weddings have cemented their place in modern wedding culture, and it’s easy to see why. The 'Til Death approach offers a chance to buck traditional norms and embrace dark themes in a way that feels real, honest, and beautifully symbolic of love's enduring nature. In this post I've collected 13 of the very best readings to add another layer of the moving and macabre to your wedding festivities.
But if you're just finding out about this trend and wondering more about it, I'll give you a brief intro to 'Til Death Do Us Part—and why I think it's not going anywhere.
There's Nothing Normal about Modern Wedding Norms
Since the new millennium, the wedding industry has seen an explosion of individuality with themed weddings and nontraditional details. Thanks largely to the internet and social media, couples can find more inspiration (and face more pressure) than ever when planning a wedding that fits their personalities. Plus, they simply have more choices when choosing vendors to help achieve their super-specific dreams! All kinds of aesthetics that were once too fringe to find a foothold in the wedding market can now thrive in their niche.
From Happily Ever After to 'Til Death Do Us Part
But there's something about the dark and dreamy aesthetic of 'Til Death Do Us Part that is already proving to have real staying power. Weddings in the United States have traditionally embraced a fairytale aesthetic—a bride dresses to look like a princess, the couple is escorted by ladies and gentlemen-in-waiting, and marriage is unironically referred to as a "happily ever after" ending. A death-themed wedding makes no secret of rejecting these sappy wedding conventions in favor of macabre details. A 'Til Death theme is often chosen to symbolize the realness of the couple's love and their solemn commitment to stay together through all of life's grim realities.
Plus "Halloween is basically gay Christmas"
I should add that we can't underestimate the huge impact queer marriers have had on the wedding industry in the United States since same-sex marriage was legalized in 2015. Since then, queer marriers have injected fresh ideas and approaches into a super straight industry. And since discrimination didn't disappear in 2015, sometimes queer marriers had no choice but to get creative working around the vendors and venues that refused to work with them.
Well, it's a long-held axiom among LGBTQIA+ folks that "Halloween is basically gay Christmas"—the happiest holiday of the year for queer folks. Maybe that's because Halloween is a day that celebrates the countercultural and beckons our fears out of the shadows. Maybe that's because Halloween provides an opportunity to dress up however you want, playing with how you express yourself. And maybe it helps too that Halloween is a holiday your family won't expect you to spend with them!
Why 'Til Death Do Us Part is Here to Stay
As a former officiant turned ceremony coach, I'm a little obsessed with the 'Til Death trend, and I'm glad it shows no signs of going anywhere. Because I write ceremony scripts for couples of all different backgrounds, I'm always on the lookout for unique readings that will take a ceremony to the next level and give your guests an unforgettable experience. And there are so many great death-themed wedding readings out there!
I shouldn't be surprised. Death—like love—has made for centuries of great poetry from cultures around the world. Death has a way of clarifying what's important to us, reminding us that our time together is precious, and even reassuring us that no matter what you believe about the afterlife, every ending is just another beginning in the great circle of life.
I've done a deep dive to find the most moving 'Til Death readings out there so that you don't have to. The following 13 readings include classic gothic poems by romance era greats, haunting verses by iconic women, and charming stories that don't shy away from the realities of mortality. Without further ado, here are 13 of the very best Til Death wedding readings for your unforgettable ceremony!
"Till I Die and After I Die"
from The Amber Spyglass by Phillip Pullman
I will love you forever; whatever happens.
Till I die and after I die, and when I find my way out of the land of the dead,
I’ll drift about forever, all my atoms, till I find you again.
I’ll be looking for you, every moment, every single moment.
And when we do find each other again, we’ll cling together so tight that nothing and no one’ll ever tear us apart.
Every atom of me and every atom of you. We’ll live in birds and flowers and dragonflies and pine trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams.
And when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won’t just be able to take one, they’ll have to take two, one of you and one of me.
"No Matter What"
by Debi Gliori
Small was feeling
Grim and dark.
Playing toss and fling and squash,
Yell and scream and bang and crash
Break and snap and bash and batter…
“Good grief” said Large.
“What is the matter?”
Small said,
“I’m a grim and grumpy
Little small
And nobody
Loves me at all”
“Oh Small” said Large. “Grumpy or not,
I’ll always love you no matter what.”
Small said, “If I was a grizzly bear,
Would you still love me,
Would you care?”
“Of course” said Large,
“bear or not,
I’ll always love you
No matter what.”
Small said “But if I turned into a bug,
Would you still love me and give me a hug?”
“Of course” said Large,
“Bug or not,
I’ll always love you no matter what.”
“No matter what?” said Small and smiled
“what if I was a crocodile?”
Large said, “I’d hug you close and tight,
And tuck you up in bed each night.”
“Does love wear out” said Small,
“does it break or bend?
Can you fix it, stick it,
Does it mend?”
“Oh help” said Large, “I’m not that clever,
I just know I’ll love you for ever.”
Small said, “but what about
when you're dead and gone
would you still love me then,
does love go on?”
Large held Small snug
as they looked out at the night,
at the moon in the dark,
and the stars shining bright.
“Small, look at the stars
How they shine and glow,
But some of those stars died
A long time ago.
Still they shine in the evening skies—
Love, like starlight, never dies.”
Vows from The Corpse Bride
by Tim Burton
With this hand,
I will lift your sorrows.
Your cup shall never be empty,
for I will be your wine.
With this candle,
I will light your way in darkness.
And with this ring,
I ask you to be mine.
"Mad Girl's Love Song"
by Silvia Plath
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
"In the End, Everything Remains"
by Ada Limón
What is above us?
The bleary algorithm of patterns, leaves,
towering history of law and lore?
Outside the gates, the chaotic hush of flesh
and bone, a kind of clamoring, cannon fire,
or a brass band, a choir of tree limbs asking:
What have we made? Who holds you?
Where resides our genius? Our courageousness of action,
name the glory, rename the glory, pin it down
in a book of legacies, ink, and stone.
There is a word that returns to me: Realm.
Someone on a train shrugs cartoonish,
“What gives?” And the answer: Everything.
Everything gives way, the shorelines, the house decaying
and becoming shrub and moss and haunt, the body
that gives and gives until it cannot give anymore.
When sleepless as a child, my mother would draw my face,
not with charcoal or oil paints, but with her fingers
simply circling my features. Here are your eyes.
Here are your eyebrows, your nose, your mouth, your chin,
and your whole face, round and round, this is you.
This was when I understood boundaries, that she could
see my shapes, and I was made of circles and she
was made of circles. All of us modest etchings
in the landscape, a fingernail dug into the side of a tree,
little winces, let me count the ways, let me count the days,
all the circles of us end eventually.
The light is its own story. When there is a hole in a roof,
what is the roof, the roof or the sky itself? Maybe that’s
the real story, neither one belonging to each other.
There is a word that returns again: Realm.
I sat by a train window and traced my palm when I missed
my mother. I was giving myself a circle, this is your palm,
a circle which is also nature, a strangeness that is you.
What is grandeur? Who is keeping score?
I believe in the circle, in light that surprises me, when I can
believe nothing. The palm reaching out is a gesture,
a boundary, a circle one could slip through, or something
you could hold and in turn it could hold you back.
"Nothing Gold Can Stay"
by Robert Frost
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
"Annabel Lee"
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
"Should You Die First"
Let me at least collect your smells
as specimens: your armpits, woollen
sweater,
fingers yellow from smoke. I’d need
to take an imprint of your foot
and make recordings of your laugh.
These archives I shall carry into exile;
my body a St Helena where ships no
longer dock,
a rock in the ocean, an outpost where the
wind howls
and polar bears beat down the door.
"This Is Not Our Home"
by John Roedel
oh my love, there are now over 8 billion of us here who are wearing skin over our shimmering stardust forms
and despite the arrogance
of what a few of our
fellow stardusters say
none of us are
actually from here
this is not our home
this is not our home
this is not our home
my love, we are dandelions
that grew on this green lawn
only after our seeds blew in
on the breeze
where did we come from?
I can't really remember
- but I don't think that place
was our home either
and someday when these
costumes we are wearing
start to wrinkle and warp
our shimmering stardust
will spill out through our
fading skin
~ and we will become
cosmic seeds again
~ and the wind will take
us somewhere new
this is not our home
this is not our home
this is not our home
~maybe we will never
actually have a home
~maybe we are built
to keep wandering
~maybe we are here
to travel across the universe
~ maybe we are made to
see it all - every inch of creation
~maybe we are crafted
to be endless travelers
~maybe death is just a
roadtrip across the cosmos
and if I get taken to the
next new world
by the breeze before you do
I'll scout a new location
where our roots can get
all tangled up together again
in the fertile purple alien soil
this is not my home
this is not my home
this is not my home
~ but you are, my love
you are my home
no matter
where I go next
you are my home
you are my home
you are my home
"The Garden of Love"
I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore.
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.
"O Beloved, Soak in the Rays of the Sun"
by Reid
You are ash and dust,
And to dust you return.
O Beloved, soak in the rays of sun.
Allow your breath to slow, and
Your heart to rest.
You are not the sum of your accomplishments.
O Beloved, float on the river with friends.
Laugh from your belly about that time
You shot milk from your nose and tears ran down your cheeks.
You are not the sum of your bank account.
O Beloved, feel the wind on your face.
Stand still with that warm embrace,
Speak the truth of this existence.
You are not here but for a rush of time.
O Beloved, that you would lie beneath the magnolia in the summer.
Her thick leaves protecting you from the heat
while you eat a chicken salad sandwich with your beloved.
You are not the speed of your productivity.
O Beloved, be blessed by the immutable truth of presence.
Learn, along with me, how to see:
This is the only moment.
Now this.
Now, this.
Now. This.
You are ash and dust,
And to dust you return.
"Should You Go First"
Should you go first and I remain
—To walk the road alone,
I'll live in memory's garden, dear,
—With happy days we've known.
In Spring I'll watch for roses red
—When fades the lilac blue,
In early Fall when brown leaves call
—I'll catch a glimpse of you.
Should you go first and I remain
—For battles to be fought,
Each thing you've touched along the way
—Will be a hallowed spot.
I'll hear your voice, I'll see your smile,
—Though blindly I may grope,
The memory of your helping hand
—Will buoy me on with hope.
Should you go first and I remain
—To finish with the scroll,
No length'ning shadows shall creep in
—To make this life seem droll.
We've known so much of happiness,
—We've had our cup of joy
And memory is one gift of God
—That death cannot destroy.
Should you go first and I remain,
—One thing I'd have you do;
Walk slowly down that long, lone path,
—For soon I'll follow you.
I'll want to know each step you take
—That I may walk the same.
For someday, down that lonely road,
—You'll hear me call your name.
Should you go first and I remain
—To walk the road alone,
I'll live in memory's garden, dear,
—With happy days we've known.
In Spring I'll watch for roses red
—When fades the lilac blue,
In early Fall when brown leaves call
—I'll catch a glimpse of you.
Should you go first and I remain
—For battles to be fought,
Each thing you've touched along the way
—Will be a hallowed spot.
I'll hear your voice, I'll see your smile,
—Though blindly I may grope,
The memory of your helping hand
—Will buoy me on with hope.
Should you go first and I remain
—To finish with the scroll,
No length'ning shadows shall creep in
—To make this life seem droll.
We've known so much of happiness,
—We've had our cup of joy
And memory is one gift of God
—That death cannot destroy.
Should you go first and I remain,
—One thing I'd have you do;
Walk slowly down that long, lone path,
—For soon I'll follow you.
I'll want to know each step you take
—That I may walk the same.
For someday, down that lonely road,
—You'll hear me call your name.
"Dying Park"
There is a park in the heart of Paris where people go to practice dying. It is an open glade in the woods, so most people don’t even know it exists. The pupils arrive each morning dressed in white and carrying cots and pillows and sheets as if they are preparing to set up a field hospital. Some are on the brink of death and have to be carried in. Others haven’t felt that darkness descend but want to be ready when it does. A few don’t have anything else to do and figure this might be a good way to make some friends. The instructor this year is from Morocco. He’s died and been revived five times. He assures them it’s nothing to be frightened of and describes the taste of death as being like that of a perfect tangerine. At the beginning of each session he instructs them to lie down on their cots and close their eyes. Then he shows them how to pull gently at the luminous threads of their soul to loosen it. Some fall asleep during the lessons. Others begin to cry. Last week someone actually died. They all stood over him. And the teacher had them, one-by-one, place their fingers on his pulse to feel how beautifully silent his blood had become.
Bring Your Bewitching Story to Life
Feeling inspired by these haunting readings? I’d love to help you create a ceremony that’s all about your unique love story, from picking the perfect readings to weaving in every personal detail that means something to you. Reach out to me anytime—we’ll make sure your wedding day is as special and one-of-a-kind as your relationship! And don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter to stay in the loop on new resources, special offers, and more ways to make your ceremony truly yours.
Photos on this page by T Leish, Kate Kerr, Anton Massalov, T Leish, Mihail Macri, Wallace Henry, Kelsey Booth, and Pau Patterson Photography.
