There’s something about the way I love that I’m only just beginning to understand.

It’s not casual. It’s not convenient.

It’s consuming. Intentional. Sacred.

When I love, I don’t tiptoe. I leap.

I don’t whisper affection—I speak it fluently, like a second language.

I don’t just touch the surface—I dive into the depths of who you are.

The truth is, I’ve never been the “keep it light” kind of lover.

I love hard. I love deep.

I see the details most people miss: the hesitation in your voice, the tension behind your smile, the way your eyes soften when you talk about your dreams.

I will hold space for you, even when you don’t know you need it.

Because that’s who I am.

But I’ve learned something too.

Loving like this—so fully, so openly—is both a gift and a risk.

Some people crave it. Others are afraid of it.

And many don’t know what to do with it once they have it.

Still, I won’t apologize for it.

Because the way I love can heal.

It can soften the hardest hearts.

It can make the loneliest souls feel seen again.

But if you mistake it for weakness—

If you try to reduce it to a game—

Then you’ll lose something rare.

Because I don’t love with conditions,

but I do love with standards.

And when I finally choose to walk away,

it’s never out of spite.

It’s because I’ve finally realized that my love is a sanctuary,

and not everyone deserves to live in it.

So, if I loved you—know this:

You were held with tenderness most only dream of.

You were seen in ways that made you feel whole.

And even if I never say it again…

You were loved by someone who meant every word,

every kiss, every moment.

The way I love is rare.

And rare should never be taken for granted.

—

Vivi 💫