Would he?

I'm living my book, but its missing some chapters. A co-author with meaning, not some rehearsed Shakespearean actor. One who refills ink with tribulations and sweat - like I do. Jots mental stanzas and can never forget - like I do. A dream team. Would he? He would be a queens lost king. A writer penning romance that spans centuries unseen. I need his pen in between my pages. Continue writing your verses that linger on life's lost graces. I'm reading.
Would he? He would enjoy my candor. Appreciate my humor and sarcastic grandeur. The hard covers act as my stage and you, my best audience. You always want an encore. I'm always wanting to give more. Would he? He would inspire me to dream bigger than before. Silly me, I once imagined there stood walls or doors. I'm surely mistaken. He shows me the world, says its mine for the taking. I'll take it. Don't tease, don't fake it. Would he? I'm thinking. He would write off the universe if suggested. Steal all the words from all the world wherever they rested. Language belongs to us. It always has. We live and digest it. Daily. We both crave it. Would he? He would finish the book I'm living. Insert my blank pages with chapters doused in chivalry never ending. Cure my ails with ink so mending. Be willing to bend the future if it means us in it. My book is on hold for a minute. I'm thinking. I want the right he to help finish it.