I have this strangest feeling that I might have loved you already before in our past lives. Some memories flash before my very eyes. As if it is history replicating itself.
I love you. After all this time. I still love you. It’s always been you. It was you yesterday. It was you today. It will be you tomorrow. And for the rest of my life. It will be you. I love you.
I love you, in ways you’ve never been loved, for reasons you’ve never been told, for longer than you think you deserved and with more than you will ever know existed inside me.