Your love doesn’t rush—
it stays.
It listens.
It knows me in ways words never could.
In your presence, I am softer,
braver,
more myself than I ever was alone.
When the world feels heavy,
you are my calm.
When days feel uncertain,
you are my sure thing.
I don’t love you for who you were
or who you might become—
I love you for who you are,
and for choosing me
the way I choose you
every single day.
May I have this dance—
not just the one beneath the lights,
but the quiet one that begins
when the music softens
and the world forgets to watch.
Let me take your hand
the way dawn takes the night—
without hurry, without force,
only promise.
We will move between heartbeats,
step for step, breath for breath,
learning each other’s rhythm
as if it has always been ours.
If I stumble, stay.
If you falter, I will steady you.
This dance is not perfection—
it is presence.
The floor may change,
the song may fade,
time may tug at our sleeves,
but still—
may I have this dance?
Not for a moment.
Not for a song.
But for as long as love
keeps counting the steps.