My inner Jiminy was screaming at me to stop playing with fire again, but I was a moth drawn to a flaming hot drummer.

You’re my true north. No compass would point me in any other direction but to you.

If it was possible for two people to make sparks, simply by connecting at their lips, I would think we would have been a firework display in the dark.

Mags, I don’t know how many more times I will have to say this, but here it goes. You’re amazing, you deserve the best, and I want nothing more than to be whatever you need me to be.