Number 100
My Darling,
My Love,
My Everything,
This is Number One Hundred.
I told you that I’d reach it, and I have.
This will be a long one,
But I hope it says everything it needs to,
I hope ink lands quicker than tears.
This whole century of writing is for you,
You own every penny in this poetic pound,
So at this literary boiling point,
I want you to know
That a century is just the start; I’ll write for you for millennia to come.
That a pound is small change; I want to make you rich.
That Hell, high water, hot water, can do their worst; this love will endure.
This is the truth that all can see,
But only you will ever know,
Will ever truly know,
The eternal honesty I write about.
And these numbers:
126
1071
8
25
17
100
Only mean anything to you and I and us alone.
Love in numerical exclusivity.
Let me count the ways…
You may be one man, but one is all that this one needs,
Or maybe even just a half, as long as you have half of me.
So know that this is a milestone,
A reminder of what’s yet to come,
A promise for longevity,
A poem for you to read and believe,
A poem for you.
Number One Hundred.
You have my heart, and
I love you.
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