We are a story,
Told in half-truths,
Where silences speak louder
Than words ever could.

But I don’t want us to remain unfinished,
A fleeting tale with loose threads.
I want you to be the book of my life—
Not a chapter I turn past,
But the pages I return to,
The beginning, the middle, the end.

I want the story of us to be whole,
Messy and flawed,
Filled with the weight of every moment we’ve lived.
Your laughter inked...