If I stopped writing you,

would you pen me down,

force my hand to revise my plan,

or would you scribble me out of your page forever?

No need, because you are

the author of my happiness,

the composer of my dreams.

No way I could erase you

from my life

as if you were never even printed.

Second drafts try for my attention,

but who needs rewrites when I have you?

You are my sign from God

that we were meant to create forever.