The Love We All Long For

We do not yearn for palaces,

Nor crowns that shine in regal halls.

Not every heart seeks history—

It seeks a voice that gently calls.

We long not for the fleeting blaze

Of passion’s fire, loud and high—

But for a love that stays behind

When all the noise has passed us by.

The kind that knows the quiet well,

That walks with us through grief and rain,

That sees the cracks inside our soul,

And touches each one without shame.

It’s not the lightning strike we seek,

That flash and burn that blinds the skies—

But rather, embers soft and warm,

That last through winters, lows, and lies.

We crave the gaze that lingers long,

Not over beauty, youth, or style—

But over thoughts we almost hid,

And flaws we’ve feared for quite a while.

We dream of hands that do not leave,

Of feet that don’t retreat with doubt.

We ache to know that when we fall,

Someone will choose to stick it out.

The love we want is not always loud,

It often hides in simple days—

In cooking meals, in folding clothes,

In knowing all your subtle ways.

It’s in the way they say your name,

Like it’s a prayer they hold dear.

In how they reach for you at night,

When they think no one can hear.

We want the love that stays awake

When nightmares steal away our rest—

The kind that doesn’t try to fix,

But pulls us close against their chest.

A love that laughs when plans fall through,

That dances clumsy in the dark.

That sees the beauty in routine,

And finds romance in every spark.

We long to be both home and hearth,

To be the place someone returns.

To be a name that means relief

When every other silence burns.

We want a love that won’t compare

Our pace to those who came before.

Who doesn’t flinch when we reveal

The past we’ve buried at our core.

We seek not gods nor flawless saints—

But humans raw, and soft, and real.

Who make mistakes, but still show up,

Who learn to speak what hearts conceal.

We wish to find that sacred space

Where being known brings no regret.

Where every scar is gently traced,

And none are asked to just forget.

We hope for love that holds its ground

When life decides to test our grace—

That doesn't vanish in the storm,

But builds a shelter in its place.

And oh, to be the chosen one—

Not for perfection, charm, or fame,

But simply for the soul we bear,

And for the echo of our name.

To be embraced in early light

When morning spills across the bed—

And feel, before a word is said,

That we are cherished, seen, and read.

We dream of someone who will stay

When beauty fades and time moves fast.

Who treasures every wrinkle made,

And every laugh line from the past.

We wish for love that grows with us—

That learns our rhythms, slows our fears,

That takes each decade as a gift,

And still says yes across the years.

This love we long for isn’t grand,

It doesn’t wear a diamond crown.

It doesn’t shout from mountaintops,

But kneels to lift us when we're down.

It shows up on the hardest days,

Brings tea when words feel far away.

It hums a tune we thought we’d lost,

And warms the bones that ache with grey.

It’s steady when the world dissolves,

It’s brave when all we do is break.

It’s honest in its clumsy form,

And sure when all the rest feels fake.

This is the love that we all crave—

A home not made of brick and stone,

But stitched in glances, held in breath,

Where we are never left alone.

So let us hope, and let us try

To be the love we’re longing for.

To offer what we wish to find,

And gently knock on every door.

For love like this is rarely loud,

But when it comes, we’ll surely know—

In how it stays through changing skies,

And how it helps the garden grow.

It will not be the tale we’re told

In fairy tales or movie scripts—

But in the way they cup our face,

And in the way they kiss our lips.

In how they see our aging soul

And say, “You’re still the one I choose.”

In every morning shared with grace,

In love that never needs to prove.