I hand-stitched you to my heart, threaded like the gods make their rules from above.
Oh, my delicate wonder, do you wander where my mind dares not rove?
All my preposterous atrocities are mine to give, and for you to love—
But will you love them?—is my wonder. Yes, you will—the Fates weave.

Oh, my tragic imperfections, you stand like my Trojan horse,
A gift of beauty, yet ruin hides within,
If your eyes could pierce the veil of my sin,
Would you fall as Troy did, or rise once more?

I feel the wound, fragile but bold,
Our names to be written on a grave, together etched in gold.
Side by side, we’ll lie beneath the earth’s embrace,
Two bound by fate, neither time nor death can erase.

As we march toward the end, hand in hand with fate,
Two souls entwined, neither early nor late.
And when death whispers, we shall not part—
For love, like legend, buries us both in heart.