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“You wrote this for me?”
“I did.”
“I want to hear you rap it, recite it, whatever. You do it.”
Saint nodded his agreement as he accepted the phone. Leaning back on the couch, he pulled Harmony down with him, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
“I believe that love, love is a death sentence.
Where else does your freedom go?
Willingly allow itself to melt into chains…
And somehow, my heart is now in bondage to yours.
So when you cut, I bleed.
When a smile meets your face, the curtain of my lips also pools in a moment of joy.
So I believe that love is a death sentence.
And if this is true, give my condolences to your past.
It must be grief to live without you.
So come.
Come here and watch me turn this casket into a home.
Allow me to take your imperfections, frame them on a wall…
And let you know that you will always be beautiful.
I believe love is a death sentence, and I don’t mind dying with you.
But before the earth can claim this body back as its own, here I pledge to die for you.
I’ll allow my ability to shut off, and if conflict comes at my door, I’ll allow it to die…
And allow my voice to speak, to communicate how I feel to you.
I will vow to die to my selfish ways and put somebody first.
Above myself.
To consider you, before I make plans, before I make meals.
I will gladly die with you, allowing the world to fade off
Forsaking everybody else around us
Always choosing you and your health, and your joy, and your wellbeing.
I’ll allow my selfish prayers to die, and here, I’ll plant a future for you.
In my prayer closet, I’ll plant seeds where God will make a beautiful woman out of you.
Where He will make you whole.
