Choose like you prayed for it—
not like you’re bored and he’s breathing.
Not because he’s charming,
or showed up with his shirt tucked in
and some well-rehearsed Bible verse.
We’ve seen that show.
It gets canceled after the pilot.
He’ll say he loves your fire
but bring buckets every time you burn bright.
He’ll call you queen,
then flinch when your throne creaks
under the weight of your boundaries.
See, some men study you
like they’re writing your biography,
just to plagiarize your power
and slap their name on the title.
He’ll ask you what you bring to the table—
while bringing nothing but ego,
a cracked phone screen,
and inconsistent “good mornings.”
Meanwhile, you built the table,
set it, saged it,
and made the damn recipe from scratch.
So, ask the questions, darling.
Ask:
Can he pray with you and not prey on you?
Can he hold your name in a room of devils
without whispering it wrong?
Can he stay when the glow dims,
or is he only here for the highlight reel?
Because let’s be real—
you’re not a halfway woman.
You’re oceans, thunder, moonlight,
and the kind of softness
that grows wildflowers from trauma.
So no, baby.
I won’t shrink for the idea of love.
I won’t carry grown boys
on the back of my potential.
I won’t perform wife for a man
still auditioning for adulthood.
Bring me truth.
Bring me presence.
Bring me hands that know how to hold,
not just grab.
Because this woman—
this woman right here—
has fought devils in daylight,
clawed her way through grief,
stitched herself back together
with prayer, therapy, and eucalyptus baths.
She ain’t folding for lust
in loyalty’s disguise.
You want access?
Bring intention.
Bring self-work.
Bring receipts.
And yes—bring snacks.
Because love doesn’t live on empty offerings.
You are sacred ground.
You don’t let just anyone build.
Especially not someone
who brings chaos in cologne
and calls it chemistry.
Some men want your throne,
but not the weight of your knowing.
They want your warmth,
but flinch at your fire.
They love the sound of your laugh,
but can’t handle the silence of your intuition.
And when your intuition speaks?
They call it attitude.
So I’ll wait.
With joy.
With boundaries.
With soft laughter
when the bare minimum tries to shoot its shot.
Because choosing a partner is sacred work.
It’s prayer in motion.
It’s not about who looks good beside you—
it’s about who feels safe inside your spirit.
And this heart?
It’s not for rent.
It’s for reverence.
Choose like you prayed for it.
Because you are the miracle.
And sacred doesn’t settle—
Copyright © 2025 Sherley Delia | All rights reserved.
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