Blank pages, first it was Miss Her that began the first words.

"Mister Him at the corner of that dusty pavement.

                     Autumn balmy hues mingled with coffee's bitterness.

One kiss on a forehead, an inward gasp."

Then, Mister Him began to dot the dots on her (i)'s,
punctuating it with little smiles, crinkled eyes
and sometimes,
though he will
    n e v e r
admit,

a slight crimson painted on cheeks.

So,
sweet heart,
that is a
love story.

My words become yours.
    Yours became mine.
Oh, it does seems like our heart-beats
*rhyme.