For many years I've written.
Some things partially true.
Many things only part of an overactive imagination.
I've always been able to say what I've wanted to say and describe what I have wanted to describe that would do it justice if only through and for my eyes.
When I met you I found myself without proper descriptive words for the most beautiful face I have ever seen.
Eyes so beautiful they feel like they are burning a hole right through my heart.
Hair like woven silk with a sheen that challenges the sun.
Lips full and ripe quenching like that of a Georgia peach.
Breasts clothed modestly and yet noticably full and firm.
A waist like the narrow corridor from one point to another.
Hips, hips that tell those who watch you walk away that you are in control of the room.
And legs long enough to let some wonderful man know that he may get where he wants to go but it's not going to be a short journey.
But most of all your voice I just don't know how to explain the depth of your conversation or the pleasure in what you have to say.