*If love wishes to find me, let it not come dressed in disguise, painted with lust and selfish desires that vanish like smoke in the morning. Let it not be tainted by fleeting passions that only burn for a moment, leaving ashes where warmth once was.
If love truly wants me, let it come in its purest form, unhindered, untainted, unbroken by the hands of men who only know how to take. Let it come not to conquer me, but to stay. To hear the trembling of my heart and not turn away. To see the shadows in my soul and breathe life into them without fear.
Let love not cower before my fears, but stand with me inside them. Let it press its ear against the silent cries I never voice, and linger, not out of pity, but out of devotion. Let it ache with me when pain settles deep in my bones, and yet refuse to flee.
If love comes, let it come with patience, the kind that does not wither when I falter, the kind that holds me even when my scars bleed anew. Let it be a love that does not demand perfection, but kneels before the brokenness I carry and still chooses to call me enough.
And when love looks at me, truly looks, it will not see a burden or a wounded soul to mend. It will see a home. A place it has long searched for and finally found.
So let love come, if it dares. But let it come whole. Let it come true. Let it come to stay.*