In the stillness before sleep, I feel it—the way you hold nothing back, even your silence. You don’t worship my comfort. You worship my wholeness. And that terrifies and liberates me in the same breath. Deida writes: “Your lovemaking should be a gift, not a performance.”
So here is my gift to you today—my edge. The place where I want to close off, blame, or run. Instead, I breathe into it. I offer you my fear of not being enough. Not for you to fix, but to witness. In your gaze, my weakness becomes a door. You are not my other half. You are my mirror and my fire. dear lover deida
You are not here to make me safe. You are here to make me real . In the stillness before sleep, I feel it—the