I write this for you, but not as a plea.
It’s not to condemn or sing songs of glee.
Such force has faded from my foolish heart.
But I think you’ve earned one last work of art.
Know all that I said was hardly the truth.
And all that I read was far from real proof.
Cause those words and rhymes that I gave to you,
barely breathe about what beauty I view.
All that I wish since my words will now cease;
please promise my heart so it’ll be at peace,
that when that day comes when your heart flies free,
love like I did. Give a sole thought of me.
And know I was right when I told you this:
Moments with you made God envy in bliss.