My dear Lady

I would cross ballrooms and silence alike, deny the rules that swear I should not feel— for wanting you is the only truth my pride never learned to resist. They say meeting beauty is rare, but rarer still is finding the one who becomes your closest friend, the soul who knows you and stays. They taught me restraint, duty, distance. You taught me fire dressed as grace. If loving you is a battle, then let society watch me lose—gladly. Say the word, Shahidah, and I would choose you even when the world insists I should not.