My Kind of Love

I want a love that feels written
before we ever met—
like God signed both our names
on the same line
and waited for us to catch up.

Morning kisses on my forehead—
not routine, not habit—
but a covering,
a quiet “I see you”
before the world gets its turn.

Leave me pieces of you—
notes, thoughts, fragments—
evidence that even in your solitude
I exist in your spirit.

Bring flowers like reverence,
like you understand
that tending to something soft
is still a form of strength.

I want a man who fears God
in a way that humbles him,
not weakens him—
who moves like he knows
he’s being watched by something 

higher than ego,
higher than impulse.

A man who builds—
not for applause,
but because it’s in him to create,
to leave behind something
that outlives both of us.

Cover me without dimming me.
Protect me without owning me.
Provide in ways that go deeper
than anything money could touch.

Let his energy be felt
before it’s explained—
steady, grounded,
a presence that recalibrates everything.

A thermostat soul—
he doesn’t chase,
cause he consults

 “the Source” 

for family provisions.

He pursues vision—
not loud, not performative—
but carved from prayer,
refined in silence,
proven through consistency.

Already moving.
Already becoming.

And when our paths collide—
it doesn’t feel random.

It feels aligned.

Like two forces
that don’t compete,
don’t consume—
but expand each other.

He pushes me—
not out of control,
but into purpose.

Sees the parts of me I try to hide
and calls them forward anyway.

And I do the same—
because this isn’t one-sided,
this is sacred reciprocity.

Give me a love that can sit in silence
and still feel loud.

Introverted nights,
candles flickering like quiet devotion,
music wrapping around us,
our presence alone
making the room feel full.

No performance.
No audience.
Just connection—
deep, unshaken,
almost unsettling in how real it is.

Let it feel a little dangerous—
not because it’s unstable,
but because it has the power
to transform everything it touches.

I want a man who can hold my depths
without trying to simplify them.

My homie—
who understands my needs
without fear.

My lover—
who meets my fire
without trying to tame it.

My friend—
who chooses me
with intention,
with discipline,
with something deeper than feeling—

cause feelings are fleeting!

Give me that old school 

deep-rooted traditional bond,

that holds true when beauty fades

and memories keep the butterflies alive 

because our love remains forever & true.