Ideally.

Insecurities I wear them

an Armour

the war wounds of my past (mistakes) for you to see.

Songs I now can sing loudly and proudly

Music I believed told the lyrics of our waste

There is no red face now.

They are just mine.

And while loving you has always felt a blessing

and,

although,

I have no book of tomorrow

we read

Happily. Ever. After

My smug smile

With my indifferent shrug.

Because then there was You.