I know this. I know I'm not the first love you've felt in your heart. I know that our mouths full of "forevers" were not the first time we've said them. Our full hearts, our eyes blazened with hope and dreams. But we've both felt loss. We've both felt love cut us with a dull blunt edged knife. The kind of heartbreak that wrecks you.

Our lips, now bruised and scraped, they've seen less skin than scar tissue nowadays. But seemingly when you say forever to me I believe it. it's the kind of love that comes in the middle of the night, like a shooting star or a wish you make when you blow out your birthday candles and everyone asks what you wished for so you lie and say something foolish - like a puppy, or to win the lottery. The kind of love you stop seeking for because you've lost hope, because you've given up on finding it. But that's what I find so miraculous, that's the magic behind us.

When I sleep without you, there's a cold patch of barren skin across my chest where your arm is supposed to be. When we're pressed together at night, keeping our promises between us like drying flowers in old literature. When you kiss me and it feels like my body ignites like a blue flame, I want to shake, tremble as I love you stumbles out of my whisper. The taste of reassurance on your lips. And I find myself wanting to spill all of these words out, but the words are minced when my brain is always thinking about ways to describe the feeling I get when I lay with you. Like in that moment time stops with us but everything else remains the same. I could write dictionaries, thesaurus', novels trying to describe those feelings. The way it feels to have you, entirely. Finally.

We're cracked mirrors. But despite how difficult it is for you, I will spend everyday reflecting your perfect reflection back to you. So you, through my eyes, can really see how truly beautiful you really are. When you shine brighter and more beautiful than the sun or on days when you are shattered into millions of pieces and you need to fall into my arms or rest your head in my lap. When all of your questions seemed to have endless answers - I'll be there. Wether you are a cold kiss from the wind on a still morning or a dark red sky over a monsoon and I find myself in the eye of the storm - I will love you, and the scars and the pain won't matter. Because we have eachother, and that's the kind of love you can't fake. That's the kind of love people die trying to write about.

That's ours. I know this