Little Black Dress

(formerly known as every man’s prayer with bad timing and a black dress)

This is a song for the ones who almost lost her.

The ones who showed up late, distracted, trying to “make something more”—but not seeing what was already there in heels by the door. We Made It, My Love is a slow-burning apology wrapped in memory. A man sifting through the wreckage of missed moments, still hoping she sees something true beneath the flaws. From a silent opera box to a laughing sidewalk kiss, this is the story of a love that could’ve died a thousand ways—and didn’t. With verses laced in regret and redemption, it’s a vow dressed as a melody:

That no poem, no city, no unfinished song ever mattered more than her. And when the candles burn low?

She’s still there, barefoot, beautiful—whispering,

“What was all the fuss about?”