You love me so much that even your dream dreams about me, fictionalizing a minor acute of your philosophy, pampered paradoxically with the structural capacity of your longings, while the art of November rain fulfills desires.

Velvety fairy fingers, — mine's °○◯ Tight waist, nectarines bust, — my seductive appearance °○◯ Fine gold threads, — my ankles °○◯ Charmingly crystalline, — my laugh °○◯ Slithering smoothly lust, — my lips °○◯ Love in my eyes' colors, — the one I belong to °○◯ I'm not a saint... I'm better, — I am his… forever °○◯ elixir