She told him that it was different now, that he had changed into someone she didn't like somehow. He told her that she was his all, he told her that he meant it: with all that he was, all that he had, and all that he would ever be.
She told him that she wished they could talk, to make up for trying to fill the holes up earlier with caulk. He told her that she was his all, he told her that he meant it: with all that he was, all that he had, and all that he would ever be.
She said that he mistreated her. In his condescending way, he'd somehow voiced some sort of insult or slur. He told her that she was his all, he told her that he meant it: with all that he was, all that he had, and all that he would ever be.
She told him that she was a bad girlfriend. Despite his objections, that she had never sinned. He told her that she was his all, he told her that he meant it: with all that he was, all that he had, and all that he would ever be.
She told him that he was the best thing yet. That it was amazing since together they'd watched that first sunset. He told her that she was his all, he told her that he meant it: with all that he was, all that he had, and all that he would ever be.
She said to him all of her secrets. Pouring herself out, so that they may get as close as it gets. He told her that she was his all, he told her that he meant it: with all that he was, all that he had, and all that he would ever be.
She told him that she'd always be there. He tried to believe her, to accept that she loved and cared. He told her that she was his all, he told her that he meant it: with all that he was, all that he had, and all that he would ever be.
She told him that she'd loved him for awhile before. He had had her heart, she'd needed him, she'd felt it in her core. She told him that he was her all, she told him that she meant it: with all that she was, all that she had, and all that she would ever be.
