Unbounded.

Dear,

I want to hold you in my arms. Very tightly. I want to make you feel safe. Safe to be vulnerable. To not be the strong one, for once.

I won’t have much to say — as you know I never do. But I have much to feel. I will share my energy. Take yours, purify it, then return it. Alleviate your burden.

Because this is the type of love I hold for you. Unconditional, unbounded. It’s not asking for anything back, it’s only giving. It’s not asking question, it understands.

I will carry your pain as if it’s mine. The same way, I will keep your secrets. I will acknowledge your shadows but always see you shine through.

I wish I could be there. From here I am powerless. I wish you would want me there. Do you?

I could give you more. Fill your cup. Fill your heart with a fuzzy warmth, one that feels confusing at first, undeniable at last. Fill your neck and lips with kisses. Fill your hands with all of me. But also, we don’t have to. I get that might not be the mood, but so you know it’s on the table.

I could offer you my lap or chest to rest your head. I could remove your glasses carefully, allow you to close your eyes for a while. For as long as you need. I could rest my arm on your side, help you feel the movement of each deep breath you take. I could run my fingers up and down your forearm, grazing your skin softly in a soothing motion. I could thread my fingers in your hair, gently scratching your scalp as you relax more deeply. I could keep the quiet space between us, never making it feel heavy. I could offer a safe harbor for you to anchor to. I could offer an oasis for you to escape in.

I could be soft. Or funny. Or sexy. I would be anything you need. Anything you want.

Because for me, that’s you. What I need, what I want.

I’m sorry that you feel the way you do right now. I sincerely hope you feel better soon. And I hope you see and seek in me what I do in you: peace.

Yours, waiting on the sideline.