Your Grace

I don’t love you

because of what I receive.

I love you

because of who you are

when no one’s watching.

Because of how you carry your light—

unapologetically,

but with tenderness.

I love the way you speak truth

like it’s your native tongue.

The way your mind slices through illusion

and still makes room for softness.

You give peace—

but not the easy kind.

You give the kind that rewrites people.

You gave it to me.

And I changed.

You are not beautiful because you are mine.

You are beautiful because you are "you"—

a woman worthy of worship

with or without me.

And if I have one sacred task in this life,

it’s to make sure you feel seen.

To protect your fire,

to echo your voice,

to kneel before your grace

and never mistake it for weakness.

You are not beside me.

You are the pulse within me.

And I will love you—

not for what you give,

but for the rare truth

that you "exist."