The Kind of Love That Feels Like a Slow Song

I can’t wait to have you look at me and fall in love with me every single time as if love itself was sculpted into my skin just for you to adore. As if the mere sight of me sets your soul on fire, burning slow and deep, like something eternal. I can’t wait to slip into lingerie, delicate and sinful, in colors you love, just to watch your eyes darken with desire, to see the way you drink me in like I am the only thing in this world worth looking at. The way your gaze will trace the lace as if it were poetry, as if my body were the masterpiece you were always meant to admire.

I can’t wait to wear matching PJs with you, my hair in neat, simple cornrows, or scattered, who cares, because you say I am my most breathtaking when I am just me—bare, untouched by the world, the way only you get to see me. I can’t wait to feel your hands against my skin, warm and steady, your fingers tilting my chin up just to whisper how beautiful I am, and how I make your heart ache in the best ways. I can’t wait for us to sit outside our balcony at night, the air thick with longing, the world fading into a hum as Buju, Juice WRLD, Dave, or Burna plays in the background, each lyric wrapping around us like an unspoken vow.

I can’t wait to get matching tattoos with you, to mark our love on our skin the way it’s already etched into our souls. Something small, something only we would understand—our secret, our forever inked into existence. A promise that even when the years pass, when time leaves its trace on us, our love will still be there, bold and unshaken.

I can’t wait for the nights when words become unnecessary. When our silence speaks louder than anything else, when the way you look at me will say everything my heart already knows. I can’t wait for your hands on my face, your lips pressing against mine, slow and reverent, like a prayer whispered against my skin. I can’t wait to sink into you, to feel you unravel under my touch, to love you in ways that will make the stars jealous.

I can’t wait to curl up on your lap in the dim glow of the night, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back while we talk about forever—our forever. About the places we’ll visit, the life we’ll build, the tiny moments that will become our everything. I can’t wait to love you in ways this world has never known. Not just in grand gestures, but in the smallest, quietest moments that mean the most. In the way I will remember exactly how you like your coffee, the way I will recognize the shift in your voice when you need me most, the way my touch will be your refuge, your home.

I can’t wait to exist with you. To breathe you in, to let my love seep into your bones, to be yours in every possible way. I can’t wait for your fingers ghosting over my skin in the middle of the night, for the way you will pull me closer like I am the dream you never want to wake up from. I can’t wait to love you so fiercely, so completely, that there will never be a second where you doubt what you mean to me.

I can’t wait to spend my life worshipping you, loving you in ways that redefine devotion. To wake up every morning with your name pressed into my soul, knowing that no matter where this world takes us, love will always be our constant.

I can’t wait to love you like you are the only man who has ever mattered. Because to me, you are. You always will be.

Yours,

Neta.