One Eighty Too

by Charity Shane

“Love, quit saying shit like that. Nothing about you is ever a mess. If I had my phone in here, I would take a picture and make it my screensaver.”

“Why would you say that shit? I want to marry you. We are never breaking the fuck up,” I grit.

“It is that deep. You always joke like that and it’s not funny, Brie. Wanting to spend the rest of my life with you ain’t funny at all.”

“I fumbled twice and put you in danger and I’m not doing that shit again. I’m protecting mine. Until that nigga is found and dead, I’m taking you wherever you need to go.”

“At least say rapacious,” she quips then rolls her eyes.

“Don’t hate. I told you to get one. Elevate your mind,” she says and we both laugh.

“Marry me.” While simpering, more tears fall from her eyes as she replies, “I definitely will.”

This one woman has eight kids and no stretch marks because she rubs coconut oil mixed with bio-oil on her stomach.

“Love, I’ve done a lot of fucked up shit in my life. I’ve bodied my fair share of niggas and cracked a few heads so I know I won’t be living my afterlife in heaven. My only chance of getting close to it is with you. You are my heaven and I want to be in heaven till death do us part.”