You Don’t Just Give Me Butterflies, You Create A Garden That Helps Me Bloom

When I think about you, everything makes sense. The struggle to feel seen by you, the desperation to feel the warmth of your gentle embrace, the urges to cancel every occasion to be in yours, my inability to trust any person’s judgment of your personality viewed in layers, the second-guessing of every word I say just to make you certain that I’m wholly yours. It’s been a ride of love, and so much more than that. If words could ever encapsulate these feelings, we would never have to live outside the virtual dates. Yet the efforts you’ve made to make this work, fight through the uncomfortable nights and days, where pain felt like a greater lover than healing ever would—this is what has gotten me through, to a greater depth towards my destiny and you. You don’t just give me the butterflies, you create a garden that helps me bloom.

You’re not just a temporary shelter to seek refuge in, you’ve become my ever-dwelling home.  There are monologues of perceptions and entitled opinions of man trying to pull us apart piece by piece. If only they knew that what God bound together is meant to be set apart—heart by heart. As long as I have your hand in mine and your assurance to be my ever-enduring beloved, I would burn every veil of fear, insecurity, and anxiety in a fury that only true love so brilliantly keeps dancing in. You’re a magnificently designed masterpiece of God who I get to hold in my arms, nurture, and grow with. And I wish you knew the flutters that occur in my chest while I think about us finally together. This ride of love wouldn’t fade away with time, space, struggle, or pain. In every circumstance, I’ll only be found running into your arms forever.