He comes like a storm—
not as thunder or lightning,
but as rain that knows where to fall.

He feels like both home and horizon,
the calm after chaos.
I want to be his warmth
that doesn’t waver.

His eyes speak safety.
His hands feel like waves of peace.
His voice steadies the air
around my trembling heart.

He’s the kind of man
who can lead without demanding,
whose hold never feels like binding.
I find the softest parts of me
in his strength.

In his presence,
I breathe differently—
deeper, slower,
as if my soul finally remembers
what it means to rest.

Neither of us is perfect,
but together we’re something
to witness.
He pours down
and cools my surface.

His skin against mine,
his rhythm a song.
Passion that floods me
until I’m drowning in him.

Together we fit like a puzzle—
jagged edges that smooth
when aligned.

He comes like a storm,
not with destruction,
but to wash away and nourish.

His presence makes me feel small
in the best way—
protected, not diminished.

I don’t need to be saved.
Just to be held.