Dear Husband,

I want a love that listens before it speaks.

That notices the shift in my breath before I say a word.

That can hold both my lightness and my gravity—without flinching.

Without fixing.

My mind moves like wind—fast, fluid, curious.

I want a man who can keep up with my thoughts without trying to tame them.

Who lets me speak in spirals and still finds the center.

Who delights in my questions, not just my answers.

But I’m not all air.

There are parts of me that live in the dark water, too.

Still. Deep.

Wounds I’ve made peace with.

Stories I don’t offer to just anyone.

I want a man who knows how to swim there—without turning back.

Bring me your backbone, not just your charm.

Bring me the part of you that prays in secret.

Bring me the silence between your words—and let it speak to mine.

I want you to explore my inward parts just as deeply as you explore my mind. I want deep passionate love off roading in the wild or at the crest of a summit.

Long walks that stretch just as long as our conversation. Deep. Probing. Poetic.

I want a man who knows how to lead with grace.

Not perform it—embody it.

Who walks into a room and shifts the energy—not by noise, but by presence.

Who makes me feel protected without being possessed.

Don’t come to dim my radiance.

Come because you recognize your reflection in it.

Because you are not afraid of a woman who burns and blooms at once.

Give me a love that understands rhythm.

That knows when to press in, and when to pull back.

A man who can honor my sacred pace without collapsing his own.

Who knows the difference between surrender and escape.

And does not run from the truth.

He honors what he feels because it is his.

He knows the difference between passion and purpose.

I’ve done the inner work.

I’ve lived through the unraveling.

I’ve tasted the ache of almost and let it refine me, not ruin me.

So when you come—come steady.

Come self-aware.

Come open.

Come with your chaos softened, your past named, your purpose clear.

And when you touch me—touch more than skin.

Touch the part of me that remembers its own name.

That never had to earn love by shrinking, serving, or suffering.

When we align, it won’t feel like arrival.

It’ll feel like a return.

To a knowing that lived in us before we ever met.

You will know it’s me by the way I vibrate beneath your skin.

Until then, I am not waiting.

I am widening.

Expanding.

Becoming.

And I promise you this—

you will not find me lost.

You will find me ready.

With truth, tenderness, and power,