Until the morning sun, you’re mine. All mine.

Crisp white pieces of paper that remain lying on the floor, each piece containing a single word. Seven words that made the perfect sentence I’ve been waiting to hear for quite some time. You know how to feels like when you know very well what is about to happen next? It is like, at the bottom of your heart, all you want to is to jump straight to the end of the line because whatever awaits you there is too good to be true. But you still savour the moment and drink in the sight, take each step slowly and gingerly anyway because despite all that, you need seconds or maybe minutes to register everything that is taking place. It seems like eternity when it could have just been less than a minute, but when everything sets in, I cannot help but smile and then at the seventh piece, I know that it was worth it. You, with a bouquet of pretty white flowers in hand, dressed up in a complete suit that you haven’t had a chance to wear elsewhere. At that moment, all I was thinking was how underdressed and unprepared I was, how my hair and pretty much everything else about me is a mess. The next, I was filled with so much happiness, I feel like I might burst out of my skin.

There has never been anyone who put in this much effort, and in a way, I'm glad there's been no one but you. I'm no poet, nor artist, nor would I claim to know love for what it is. What would I know about it? I have never been one to deal well with emotions and feelings, and I tend to screw up most of the time. But for what it is worth, I promise to keep on to this end of the deal and give you as much as you have given me. I hope this would last, like how good things are supposed to.

You say you have flaws, but it's those little things that makes you perfect. 
I hope you know that's enough for me.