If I Am to Be Loved

If I am to be loved,let it not be for the shadows I cast

but for the way I keep lighting the same small flame

in a world that forgets warmth.

Let it be for the silence I carry like old incense,

for the tea I prepare with both hands,

as my mother once taught me:

that love begins in offerings no one notices.

Let it be for the prayers stitched in my rest,

the lullabies I hum to no one,

the way I speak to flowers as if they remember me

from another life.

Do not love me for how I dance when watched,

but for how I move when I believe I am alone.

For the pauses I take before I speak,

because words, in my tongue, are sacred.

And I was raised to mean them.

If I am to be loved,

let it be slowly

like moonlight inching across stone,

like honey melting in warm milk,

like a name whispered not to possess,

but to bless.