You.

What else is there to life, without having you around to love?

You, a man I call my own. You, a man who are my own.

Fiercely proud of you, deeply in love with you, insanely in awe of you.

A perpetual high, you make me dizzy. It's the fortune of having found you.

I'm grateful and deeply so.

There are times. There are those times.

You trouble me. Like the proverbial child who shouldn't be spared the rod.

Then there are the others. Where you love me. With the same innocence of that very child.

I'm helpless. I'm happy. I'm unguarded. I'm yours.

Hold my hand please. And don't ever let go.
I'd be lost in the crowd. In a place I could never come back from.

Trust me to be there. Trust me enough to be yourself.

For didn't I just say that I have nothing else of my own but you?