Melodies of Love
Beloved,
Love does not always arrive with spectacle.
Sometimes it enters quietly, almost discreet, like a saxophone note after midnight, warm, sonorous, and certain of itself. It does not beg for attention. It does not make a perfunctory speech about forever while behaving capriciously by Monday.
This love has rhythm.
It has patience.
It has decorum.
It knows how to sit beside a woman without trying to occupy her spirit.
The older I become, the more I trust the love that feels like peace. Not dull peace. Not timid peace. Luxurious peace. Sensual peace. The kind that lets the body unclench, and the heart open one small, discerning window.
There is a difference between being wanted and being held.
There is a difference between being pursued and being understood.
There is a difference between love that excites the nervous system and love that teaches it to rest.
I no longer have an appetite for ostentatious affection with no substance. I do not want chaos dressed as chemistry. I do not want intensity masquerading as intimacy. Keep it. Bless it. Return it to the sender with a tracking number.
I want love with emotional literacy.
Love with clean hands.
Love that does not diminish my brilliance, mishandle my softness, or mistake my discernment for difficulty.
A love that understands I am not guarded without reason. I am sacred with experience.
And when that love arrives, steady and benevolent, I will not run from it.
I will receive it slowly.
Beautifully.
With soft skin, clear boundaries, and excellent posture.
Because the lesson is no longer how to survive longing.
The lesson is how to let sweetness stay.
How to let peace unpack.
How to let love play its timeless melody through every room of my life without apologizing for the sound.
So tonight, let the saxophone play.
Let the candle burn low.
Let the body remember it was made for more than endurance.
Let the soul remember that real love does not agitate your becoming.
It gives you somewhere sacred to rest.
With love,
Sherley
