Writings of the Heart

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I WANT TO WORK THIS OUT WITH YOU

I don’t want you to be my almost.
I don’t want to find pieces of you in strangers.
I don’t want to search galaxies for what I already found here, in you.

I don’t want you to become a memory I visit when songs play or skies turn grey.
I don’t want to say, “It could have been us.”

I want to say, “It’s still us.”

Because I don’t want a different version of love—I want ours.
The messy, real, imperfect, beautiful kind.
The kind where we stumble, but still choose each other.
The kind where we don’t give up just because it got hard.

I don’t want to start over.
I don’t want to open up to someone new, explain my wounds, or rebuild from scratch.
I want to finish what we started.
I want to evolve, to fight, to grow, with you.

Let’s buy groceries together and talk about nothing while making breakfast.
Let’s argue over silly things, then find our way back with soft eyes and tired laughter.
Let’s decorate a home with framed memories and fingerprints of a life we built from love.

Let’s hold hands when we’re old—wrinkled, wise, and wildly in love.

Because this lifetime is all we’ve been given.
And if I get to spend it with you, then every heartbreak, every detour, every chapter before you—
it was all worth it.

I choose you. In this life. Right now.
No other universe. No next time.
Just this one.
With you.