“
When I say you're mine, I don’t mean that you belong to me—I mean that I carry you with me in quiet ways no one else can see. I mean your laughter lingers in places you've never been, and your presence lives in my thoughts like a song I never want to end. You’re mine in the way a memory clings to a moment, in the way a soul recognizes another—not out of possession, but out of connection that feels timeless.
Being mine isn’t about ownership; it’s about meaning. It means you’ve left something of yourself with me, and in return, I’ve given you a piece of my heart to hold gently, even from afar. You’re free, always have been—but the way you’ve touched my life can’t be undone. So when I say you’re mine, it’s not a claim—it’s a quiet truth: you matter to me, deeply, endlessly, and without condition.
”
”