I see you.
In the quiet ways your heart opens
even when fear lingers at the edge.
I love you—
not as a sculptor loves stone,
trying to shape or perfect,
but as the ocean loves the shore:
touching, retreating, returning,
never demanding it be different
than what it already is.
I choose you,
not to fill a hunger,
not to quiet my loneliness,
but because my soul stretches
when yours is near.
Because something in me softens,
finds its natural rhythm,
when we meet in presence
instead of expectation.
I don’t need you.
And somehow, that makes my choosing
even more sacred.
Two whole beings,
walking side by side—
sometimes holding hands,
sometimes letting go—
never as possession,
always as devotion.
Love, I’m learning,
is not a cage.
It’s a climate.
A living field
where truth grows
under the warm light of acceptance.
Where we arrive as we are—
wild, flawed, unfinished—
and still find ourselves
softening into tenderness.
To love you
is to breathe freely.
To be loved by you
is to remember
that I am already enough.
And together,
without forcing,
without gripping,
we simply… unfold.
✨ If this speaks to you — if you’re exploring love that feels safe, slow, and rooted in wholeness — you’re invited to begin here:
👉 https://slow-secrets-tribe.kit.com/starthere
No fixing.
No chasing.
Just a gentle return to truth, connection, and the self beneath the noise.
