Sometimes he will be soft

He will not be in his masculine all the time.

Sometimes he will be soft.

At least, I hope for your sake that sometimes he is soft.

That you get to see the hint of his wounded inner child in his eyes.

That you feel him sob into your breasts, so that you can feel how your body is the mother of the earth, and you are not only holding his man, you are her holding all earth’s creatures at once. And sometimes they need that.

I hope you learn to recognize his vulnerability

Instead of critiquing how it looks different than yours.

And that you hold the softness between his legs with as much love as you do his hardness.

I hope that sometimes you get to watch him fall apart.

And that you are able to see the beauty in that as much as you see it in his strength.

I hope he does not always show up flawlessly and respond to you in the way you would like.

So that you get to learn how to hold yourself too.

I hope he finds you safe enough to share with you all the things he is afraid of.

Even the parts that include you.

I hope that he is powerful enough that his ability to tap into presence feels like a rod through your body, bringing the currents of stars into your system and opening you into every sensation in the universe.

And I hope that sometimes he does not do that at all, and that he is tired and hungry and sad and insecure

And that you value his human just as much

As the energy he can hold.

I hope you trust him so much that you allow him to do things in the way you might not think you particularly enjoy

And that you are open enough to receive it anyway

And to learn that sometimes you are wrong.

And I hope that instead of demanding things of him you approach him with a sense of curiosity

And you want to see every single layer of what is underneath.

I hope sometimes you get to feel his little boy.

And see through his expressions how he must have been in the world as a child

What made him afraid

What brought him joy