.

You are every “thank you” I owe to the Lord. You are every bit of my better history. You altered an otherwise dark path. I could only imagine the shell of myself I’d be if I hadn’t met you. Some history is worth cherishing. You’re every goo learned lesson, every beautiful obstacle, and every ounce of happiness I’ve found.

I have to thank God for putting purity into your smile. Peace emits when your lips curve upwards. It’s like your brown skin is the post stamp on my life’s love letter. The way you shine bright in this world brings a light to me that never dims. Beauty marks, curves, dimple all paint a roadmap to my serenity. Your insecurities give me a place to pour all of this love I have.

History has taught me that this is every chance I need to heal from the hurt this life has caused us. We built a foundation of friendship that could never shatter. Never rock. Never tumble. Only you know the passcode to my heart. But I’m also not afraid to say that it is 11.27.98…

One thing about history though… Is that every day we have a chance to rewrite the story we want it to tell. We can either allow it to be a stain, something we hide away. Or we can wear it like armour, a battle scar, and a lesson learned. History doesn’t have to determine who we will be tomorrow in a negative way. We can be proud of our triumphs whilst still overcoming our failures. But let’s never hide away because ignoring the bad… it may be easier yes, and it may be painful to admit and own some of our worst history… but freedom comes when we use today to rise above. When we choose stepping into our better versions rather than wallowing in neagtivity.

For me there’s no more running away from what I want. If it’s there I claim it. Life maybe be shorter than I can imagine so I want to fall hard. And if i pick up some more bruises along the way that’s fine by me. Because tomorrow’s experiences will one day be history as well and I’ll be able to overcome or cherish those moments to.

I am who i am. f*ck ups and all. I’m an amalgamation of all the troubles I’ve lived. But I’m also who I choose to be. Because for me each day I get to write my own narrative. Nobody else has to lay down in my thoughts at the end of the night. I have to choose what makes me happy. And give dying habits up to history. And pray and work towards a better tomorrow. For me. For Her. For us.

She’s golden.
Every inch of her body has been kissed by divinity.
Every piece of her soul is of heaven.
Her spirit is perfection.