Some love stories end with despair,
Some end with happiness,
Some end with loneliness,
Some end with fireworks.

Some love stories are epic as the next motion picture,
Some are short stories made into a TV movie.

Some love stories are nothing but drama,
Some love stories carry emotion.

Some love stories carry meaning,
Some love stories are physical.

Some stories are mixed up,
Some are laid out like sticks.

Some stories breathe new life,
Some stories live up to old life.

But our love story is different.

Ours began as a seed planted freshly in the soil,
Then we watered it daily with kisses,
We fertilized it every other weekend,
We moved in out into the sunlight,
And we cared for it.

Eventually,
It blossomed.

It blossomed into a lily.
No, a rose.
And on that rose,
We penned down the details,
The details of our love story.

We penned down the day we met,
How we felt,
Where we went,
And what we ate.

I penned down the night I lay in your arms,
Feeling you with me.

And as the sun set and the day drew to a close,
And every petal had been written on,
I placed the rose with our love story back in its vase,
And placed it on our windowsill.

There it will be forever,
There it will live forever,
As a memory of our love story,
And as a lesson for all.

So what was our love story?

It was a short meaningful story,
It was an epic romance,
It was a walk down the beach under the sunset,
It was physical passion.

It was yours,
It was mine,
It was our love story.