This is on account of loving you most ardently,
And believing you were my Mr Darcy,
When you could and never will be,

This is on account of your ability to make me want to take the stars from your eyes,
Brighter than those in the skies,
And inject them straight into my bloodstream.

This is on account of my desire to bottle up every moment we share,
And open it, releasing the essence into the air,
When the days are dark and cold,
And my soul feel worn and old,
And you aren’t as near as I’d like you to be.

This is on account of us,
We are turbulence,
The definition of young and reckless,
Fire breathers and blood drinkers,

You are the rose-tinted beginning and end of everything,
A moment away from your side is a moment wasted.

In short,
This is on account of my loving you forever.