Shalt I stay with thee throughout thy troubles,
despite thy hatred of thyself alone,
or the destruction anger-caused rubble,
or the beauty stuck that you are so prone.
Thou hath struck me with thy beauty and breath,
thou art cunning, quite quaint, and sweet to me,
losing thee would beest a living death,
living without thy love; it cannot be.
Together we shalt walk through the fire,
braving the critique of our past lovers,
we shalt not ever leaveth or tire,
At each moment, making new discovers.
With mine handeth in yours forevermore,
I can't wait to telleth the world that I'm yours.