My love.
Words always fail me when it comes to you.
How do I tell our story? In my mind, it is an epic. It needs an orchestra. A conductor. An usher to guide people through a darkened theatre with a flashlight, annoying everyone, garnering glares and stares that go tsk, tsk, tsk.
When the curtains go up, we will be standing there. I will be stubborn and you will be proud and at our initial encounter, fire will pass between us and the sun will cross over the moon, the planets will whisk and whir and everyone will realize that we are meant to be.
Except us.
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