Dear Lover Deida -

I don’t want a love that is comfortable. I want a love that is true —even when it breaks my patterns, even when it asks me to die to my small self. Dear Lover,

In the stillness before sleep, I feel it—the way you hold nothing back, even your silence. You don’t worship my comfort. You worship my wholeness. And that terrifies and liberates me in the same breath. Deida writes: “Your lovemaking should be a gift, not a performance.” dear lover deida

When I surrender my need to control this moment, I meet you as you are—not as my idea of you. Your masculine depth calls forth my feminine radiance. Your stillness invites my motion. Your “no” clarifies my “yes.” I don’t want a love that is comfortable

You are not here to make me safe. You are here to make me real . You don’t worship my comfort

So here is my gift to you today—my edge. The place where I want to close off, blame, or run. Instead, I breathe into it. I offer you my fear of not being enough. Not for you to fix, but to witness. In your gaze, my weakness becomes a door. You are not my other half. You are my mirror and my fire.