She is the flower in my heart.
The air in my breath.
She covers my soul.
To touch her is to come alive.
To feel her love ... I melt inside.
She's in my fingers as I write.
She is my desire, my comfort, my joy!
Does she know ... yet?
Of the passion and fuel inside?
Our embrace that must always ... at some point, end,
Fuses our bodies and limbs to one.
Does she know ... yet?
That I have only loved before to know this love?
I have kissed no other nor seen such beauty or grace.
I have never laughed nor dreamed without her in my heart.
She awakes me, yet she is with me in my sleep.
Does she know ... yet?
That I lie down my love for her?
That I have emptied myself for her?
Her words are my ears,
Her eyes are my eyes,
Her skin is my skin.
Her pain - my sorrow, her joy - my everything!
Does she know ... how much I love her . . . ?
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