Word by word, piece by piece, she exposed the truth.
Each day a new letter came, until there was nothing left to tell.
No secrets to hide, no stories untold.
This is the story of Layla.
He surrendered to me, lowering all of my heart's defences.
He then fought right down to my soul.
And that was when he made me.
My body was an empty canvas. But then he painted it with our love. Trails of kisses, delicate finger strokes and tracings of the tongue were all just the beginning of the invisible inks used to depict the story of our love on my body.
I had existed before.
But from that point on, I lived.
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