"No just happy."
Those stolen at birth. Those floated down the river in a basket meet your face, and into your arms they fall...into your bosom they find rest. The Morning Glorys lie at your feet, as they make no sound passing through the garden. Your voice like a beach off Thailand, your hair like the spool of aureate shimmer. Horses run wild and evoke this response in the hearts of men. Skin like porcelain, and eyes like diamonds. Shine and crest and reflect the light of humanity in it's cradle. A chalice holds your elegance, and lips touch the rims. Only to drink you for a day, or a night, whichever the fates may hold. In song, we men revel and cultivate multi-billion dollar industries when our hearts are broken by your scent, your touch, and your release. I once heard that if no woman would have a man unless he walked on his hands, half of the world's population would be doing handstands within two days. No truth was more exact or literal. No more perfect truth comes from your ruby lips and the soft curves of your figure.
The sundress you wear is like a brandy drowning brain cells. Fortunate lottery winners are those who find the likeness of you. To gather strength and deal with the faults of man, you should not be enticed, but your heart rests easily on our shoulders and your tears fall gently on our laps. They are soaked up as a sponge would find spring rains, freshening the house with the windows down, wind blowing through, spreading your scent making everything new and vibrant. We watch you with curiosity. We are enthralled by your movements. All the art of men is somehow inspired by you. Wars have been fought over your preferences and men have died for your honor. Amorous is your vision and your warm preparation of our sons for the world is what passes the fondness of our admiration through the generations. You sculpt your daughters in an instinctual way. No man can comprehend your moves and never will.
Thirst is the way to describe the longing for your touch and "jealousy" does no justice to describe the feelings of betrayal. There is no word for the time when you turn your back in search of a more capable suitor. Murderous rage ignites, but c'est la vie. Fish in the sea, ahh...see.
Devotion hangs by a balance and when we are young we listen to testosterone, we listen to locker rooms, and we listen to foolery. But when we mature, and our minds find solace, we look to our mothers to find that which ushered us into this life and that which will hold us in the end. You live longer than we...and you see more of the world through your eyes, because God granted you longer life. But our life is cut short so that your's could be made long. It is a man's duty to find a mindful and loving woman. One who will dance in the rain. Let her shirt fall to the floor when unprovoked. Find a way to our hearts and calm the animal that surfaces when we are utterly violent. One who desires to be held and protected from the macabre in the world, trusting us with your safety. The words from your mouth can shatter glass and your look can break the hardest of hearts. You are the strongest drug in the universe. You are God's most beautiful creature.
We live for you.
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