There is something exquisite
about a love
that arrives with sweetness,
its intentions luminous,
its affection unencumbered,
its presence as gentle
as the evening tide
caressing the shore.
Sweet love.
Sweet caresses.
Sweet support.
The sublime assurance
of two souls
who have learned
the sanctity of being cherished.
How divine
to be met with candor,
to be held with reverence,
to feel the tender persuasion
of your fingertips
resting upon mine.
No ambiguity.
No antiquated games.
No beguiling promises
that dissipate
with the morning breeze.
Just the quiet audacity
of two hearts
brave enough
to recognize one another.
And let us be candid, beloved,
there is something delicious
about a love
that knows how to make a decision.
How refreshing.
A little romance,
a little laughter,
and the remarkable pleasure
of never having to adjudicate
the sincerity of a kiss.
I desire the copious sweetness
of a love that gives generously,
where affection is reciprocal,
support is steadfast,
and devotion possesses
the integrity
of a promise honored.
A love that celebrates
my regality
without relinquishing
its own magnificence.
A love that understands
the dexterity of tenderness,
the fortitude of commitment,
and the quiet vitality
of choosing each other
through life’s changing seasons.
Let the sea bear witness.
Let its sapphire waters
carry the cadence
of our laughter.
Let the moon illuminate
the intimate moments
when your hands
find the small of my back,
and my body
recognizes the warmth
of being lovingly received.
There is no need
for ostentatious declarations.
The sweetest love
has its own eloquence.
It is found
in the morning embrace,
the thoughtful gesture,
the gentle kiss
upon the forehead,
the reassuring voice
that says,
Beloved, I am here.
And stays.
For divine love
does not ask us
to relinquish ourselves.
It invites two complete souls
into a sacred engagement
of trust, passion,
compassion,
and shared purpose.
So come closer, beloved.
Come close enough
for the evening
to settle softly
around our shoulders.
Let me turn toward you
and rest my cheek
against the warmth
of your chest.
Let your fingers
trace the tenderness
along my wrist,
while mine find
the familiar comfort
of your hand.
There is no hurry.
I want to hear
the quiet cadence
of your heartbeat,
to feel your breath
soften against my temple,
to know that in this moment
we are both here,
fully,
freely,
without reservation.
And when you lift my chin
to meet your eyes,
let the silence
speak with exquisite candor.
Let the kiss arrive
slowly,
with the sweetness
of something cherished
and the sublime assurance
of being wanted
without uncertainty.
I say yes.
Yes to the tenderness
we offer each other.
Yes to our connection,
to the gentle reciprocity
of loving and being loved.
Yes to the sacred engagement
of two hearts
whose intentions
are as clear
as the first light
upon the ocean.
And as the moon
lays her silver hands
across the water,
I draw you closer,
my fingers intertwined
with yours.
Let your forehead
rest against mine.
Let our laughter
dissolve into the hush
of the evening.
And when you ask me
what I am thinking,
I shall smile,
brush my lips
against your cheek,
and tell you softly:
How lovely it is
to be this close
to someone
whose love feels
as beautiful
as his presence.
Then stay here
a little longer.
Let the tea grow cool.
Let the candle burn low.
Let the ocean continue
its ancient conversation
with the shore.
For tonight,
I have no need
for elaborate declarations.
Your hand is in mine.
My heart is at ease.
And in the sweetness
of this unhurried embrace,
I know what my yes
has been waiting to say.
Yes, beloved.
To you.
To us.
To the divine tenderness
of a love
we are both willing
to cultivate.
And when morning arrives,
may your first instinct
still be to reach for me,
as mine will be
to turn toward you.
Not because love
requires an audience
or a magnificent promise,
but because
even in the quietest hour,
we still choose
to come closer.
Copyright © 2026 Sherley Delia | All rights reserved.
