William Ely

Our rings still sit on the fireplace like two ghosts that don’t know they’re dead yet. You were my addiction, whispering sweet lies as you broke me piece by piece. You said forever—but you were kissing someone else before I'd even unpacked all the boxes. Now I’m free, and all you’ve got left is a lighter, and the ashes of a man who meant every word.

I loved her in prose, tracing her body in words and capturing her soul in the spaces between lines.

If real life followed wedding vows, love would be lived daily - with grit, loyalty, and unwavering devotion.