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I will love you until you forget—who she was, how she left, why you stopped believing in love and in yourself for a minute. I will love you until you remember your worth.

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I love you more. Which is to say that we all have numbered days, but I want to spend my temporary forever standing next to you.

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I see you in every place I enjoy, knowing one day those will be our places, and not just mine.

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These miles are merely a number.
And I won’t let them separate my love for you.

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Give me yourself so that I can love every part of you, so that I can stand beside you when the storms come, so that we can make meaning of this life, even when it hurts.

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So maybe this is what it’s like to know something is real—because whatever’s in front of you no longer compares.

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I don’t want a superhero, a prince charming, a savior. I don’t want anything other than an imperfect soul intertwining his arms, his hands, his heart with me.

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What if I said you’re my person—the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me, the one I want to call mine and wake up next to for the rest of my life?