Ruin the script of fate; I choose you, awake and willing.
Only in your eyes do borders fall and the night learns our names.
My ribs open like windows when your quiet enters the room.
And I promise no temples—only a home where breath is allowed.
Nothing in you needs saving; love is not a siren, it is steady hands.
Take these ordinary hours; let us keep them exact and unruled.
I listen to your pulse like a compass that refuses to lie.
City lights stand still when your laugh breaks the grid.
Let us be honest: work and tenderness are the same fire here.
On doubtful nights, I will choose you again, without witness.
Vows without altars—just hands learning the map of each other.
Even the dark trusts us to carry a small, stubborn flame.
Promise me questions, not a cage; keep the door open, the table set.
Open roads mean little unless our feet argue them into truth.
Every revolt worth keeping begins as care at the smallest scale.
My heart is no throne; it is a room we clean, together, each day.
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