...and after you read this, you will understand why I don't write romance...
200 words for your enjoyment:
No one ever said it was easy to love a god. I think it’s because humans and gods love by different standards, so it’s more difficult to understand each other.
While humans like kissing, touching, gifts, and kind words, some gods love through prayer, or meditation, others by music, dance, painted bodies, and incense. Some gods want grand temples and statuary, mosaics, or ephemeral offerings of food and flowers. Those relationships could probably work, with effort, but I think it would be harder if a god only loved through self-flagellation, war, destruction, or suicide.
The god I love resides in a tree.
I don’t know if it’s male or female, or if that even matters. I know it loves me from the kind sound of wind through its branches, the caressing touch of its leaves on my skin, and the gift of cherry blossoms in the spring.
In return, I feed the one I love with my words, with my touch, and with the gifts I bury deep in the soil. When I kiss its rough bark with my lips, and breathe the scents of growing life and decomposition, I know we have connected, that our love is real.