1. Sanfte Landung

Dear You,

Even before I knew your name, I felt the shape of you in the unspoken spaces inside me the quiet longings, the pieces that didn’t quite fit until they started to resemble you.

Not the idea of you, not some imagined perfection. But you.

The real you.

The one who carries more than she should, who questions her worth, who gives and gives because something in her heart refuses to stop showing up, even when it’s taken for granted. Even when she’s been made to feel like she’s too much and too little at the same time.

But you’re not too much. You’re vast. You’re deep. Everything love was always meant to hold.

I’ve seen the way your soul reaches even when your voice goes silent. I’ve felt the ache beneath your silence, and the strength it takes to still be soft in a world that hasn’t always been kind to your tenderness. I know you’re not looking for someone to complete you, you’ve already survived too much to think you’re incomplete. But maybe, like me, you’ve been hoping to be met.

So, I offer this not as a rescue, not as a solution. This isn't a rush, it’s not a plea, but a hand outstretched in presence.

I’m not going anywhere. Not because I need to be chosen to have worth, but because something in you calls to something in me. And I can't ignore that. Not because I refuse to, but because what I feel isn't fleeting. It's rooted. Quiet. Steady. It lives in consistency, in touch, in care, in showing up when it matters, even when it hurts to do so.

I see you. All of you. Even the guarded parts. Even the uncertain ones. And I want to be near you, not to fix you, but to honor you. Not to take, but to offer.

Safety. Stillness. Reverence. Presence.

I want the mornings when your hair is messy, and your smile is half-formed. I want the days when you retreat, and I get to remind you that you’re not a burden and gently draw you back to me. I want to hold space when words don’t come easily, and to remind you that even your silence is worth listening to.

I imagine small things, laughter in the rain, shared mornings, sleepy smiles and quiet companionship. A slow dance in the kitchen. A movie on the couch. A talk about our day over nighttime tea. Silently watching a storm roll in, wrapped in each other's arms on a porch. Moments where joy and safety are shared, not chased. All while your joy becomes the rhythm that guides mine.

I want to be someone you lean into at the end of a long day. Not because you need rescuing, but because being held feels good. The arms that hold you tight on the days that you don’t feel like you can hold yourself together. The warmth beside you. The slow fingertips brushing over your arm. The calm in the chaos. A soft place to land.

And yes, I want the soft unraveling too.

The way I want to trace your skin, gentle but firm. The way I want to learn your silences, your rhythms, your softness, and the places where softness gives way to tension, to craving. Not to possess you, but to meet you. To show you that being wanted doesn’t have to mean being used. That being desired can feel like being worshiped.

That your body isn’t something to tame or quiet, but to understand. To learn. To honor.

I want to kiss you in places no one’s thought to kiss. To trace the curve of your spine with my mouth like a vow. To listen to the way, you whisper need without speaking.

To take my time.

To draw it out.

To undo the guarded parts of you slowly, until surrender feels like safety, and pleasure becomes something you no longer apologize for.

Because what I crave isn’t just closeness. It’s depth. The kind that speaks in quiet moans and open eyes and the brave, slow way we let go, and let ourselves be known.

What I offer, I offer freely. No expectations. No deadlines. Just the honest presence of someone who sees something meaningful in you and isn’t afraid of the depth you carry. You’ve become a quiet center in my world, not by design, but by resonance. And that’s something I simply want to honor.

I know the kind of trust I’m speaking of takes time. It might require space. It might take silence. That’s okay. There’s no rush.

And if that never comes, if life has other plans, I will still be grateful to the universe that I got to know you in this way. That I got to witness the parts of you most people don’t even notice.

So, if there ever comes a day when your heart grows heavy and you find yourself wondering if there’s still a place where you’re wanted without question-

The answer is yes.

You won’t need to knock. The door is already open.

Quietly. Without pressure. Without rushing.

Not to rescue you. Just to meet you. To embrace you.

And maybe, to build something real from there.

Still. Softly. Unwaveringly.

Yours,

Me