Genuine love I desire for you
I do not love you with hope,
for hope waits at the edge of tomorrow,
clinging to what may come,
trembling at what may fade.
I love you with presence,
with the way your eyes
steady the wild places in me.
With the way silence between us
is never empty,
but full—like the hush of dawn.
I do not ask for forever,
though I would walk every forever with you.
I do not bargain with fate,
though fate has been kind to let me find you.
My love is not a contract,
not a plea for what might be,
but a truth that exists simply
because you are.
When I hold you,
it is not to keep you,
for you are not mine to keep.
It is to honor the miracle
of this moment,
the way our hearts
recognize one another
without condition,
without demand.
If tomorrow comes,
I will love you then, too—
not because I hoped for it,
but because my love does not vanish
with the setting sun.
It does not ask the world to bend,
it only asks to be given
as freely as it flows.
So take this love
as it is—
whole, unchained,
needing nothing but you,
as you are,
here, now.
This is genuine love:
not born of hope,
but of being.
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