I want a love like the music spilling from a midnight juke joint, raw, alive, and wrapped in sweat and laughter. A love that moves through my bones like the bass drum calling spirits to dance, the saxophone wailing like the moon singing back to the sky. This love is ancient, a blessing carved from the cosmos itself. It is the blessing God bestowed when He scattered stars and said, “Let there be light,” and I was born into that light, destined to be real. Even the Martians had to make room for our slow dance on red dust under a blue moon, not because we merely deserve it, but because this love is as old as time.