What my ideal love looks like-

No promises of tomorrow, because the moments get forgotten.

The heartbreak and fear was in the anxious notion that if I am not shackled, then I am not in love. I don’t believe that anymore.

It looks like the acceptance that we can’t meet every need, but we try, and still show up for ourselves.

It’s in the ordinary, and sitting on the couch, the gentleness, the inquisition, the strange positions in bed, the curiosity and the real feelings of hurt and heartbreak, anger and frustration, all of which is shared without the fear of being turned away for feeling the many ways that I feel- for doing the many things I do.

I’ll forgive myself and all those before me, who traded in all the moments for the chance at a future, or in fear of it.

Every cherished memory existed because there and then, love won, and it continues to, without the labels, without conditions and bargains.

It continues with understanding, feeling, and believing in things that I was told aren’t possible. Love is always possible, and the here and now is too.

I compassionately choose the moment to know, love and treasure, because that’s all I have, and it’s everything I am.