Paragraphs and Palaces

I deserve paragraphs and palaces—

not fleeting whispers etched in smoke,

not half-built bridges collapsing under the weight of silence.

Give me cathedrals carved in your heart,

arches that reach toward infinity,

words that do not crumble beneath the weight of daylight.

I know what I am worth.

Do not offer me chalices filled with empty promises,

their surfaces gleaming but their contents hollow.

Do not think your presence alone will suffice,

that your shadow beside mine is a testament to devotion.

I require substance—

foundations as firm as the earth,

vows that do not shatter under pressure.

Do not simply make paintings with your tongue on my skin,

temporary murals destined to fade.

Love is not a momentary conquest,

not the plunder of what you seek to claim

but cannot sustain.

Do not just take what you want

if you are not prepared to give—

to build, to sustain, to endure.

I will not settle for love that exists in fragments,

splintered shards of potential left unrealized.

I deserve entire novels,

chapters that do not end mid-sentence,

paragraphs unfolding like constellations,

each word illuminating what lies within.

I will not let desire blind me

to the truth of what I seek—

a palace built brick by brick,

every stone laid with intention,

every corner warmed by light.

I will not let yearning eclipse my standards.

Bring me love that is a cathedral,

its echoes filled with the music of commitment,

its walls adorned with stained glass stories,

each pane an unspoken promise.

Bring me chalices brimming with integrity,

with tenderness steeped in resolve.

Know this:

I will not be swayed by half-measures,

by gestures that mimic grandeur

but falter when tested.

I stand firm in my worth,

my boundaries as steadfast as the tides.

For I deserve paragraphs and palaces,

love as vast as the sky,

as enduring as the earth,

as sacred as the spaces we dare to build together.