Could you be different?
Truly?
Or have I gone too far yet again?
My love, you are the stuff of dreams
With your crystalline eyes and paint-stained fingertips
Those delicate movements from roughly hewn hands pluck gracefully on my heartstrings
That crooked smile, so clever and mischievous; it could get away with ******
You are not for the faint of heart…
But then again…
Neither am I