I have watched you stand,

even when the world tried to pull you under.

I have seen your hands,

raw from the climb,

still reaching for more.

You are not just soft skin and whispered sighs.

You are fire.

You are the storm that refuses to kneel.

You are the quiet strength that turns pain into poetry,

the light that bends but never breaks.

And I—

I am the man who walks beside you,

who watches in awe as you rise,

again and again,

undaunted,

unshaken,

unrivaled.

If they ask me who I love,

I will not speak of beauty,

or kisses stolen in the dark.

I will tell them how proud I am

to have known a woman like you.