To my dearest, sweetest, fondest, fantastic, extra-ordinary, paragon of handsomeness a.k.a.
I hope beyond hopes this missive meets you in a fabulous state of metabolism, if so doxology. My principal aim of writing this letter to you is to gravitate your mind towards a matter of global and universal importance to my ego, which has been troubling my soul. The matter is so importance that even as I am writing my adrenalin is rocking 100 on the Reitcher scale, my temperature is rising, the wind wave of my mind is pointing North, South and East at the same time while the convex mirror in my eyes has only your divine image at its focal point. Indeed when I sleep you are the one in my medulla oblongata and I dream about you. I went out to sea in my dream and I saw you surrounded by H2O and you your honor rose from the abdomen of the sea like yemoja, the avatar of beauty. Oh Lord be with us! We are thy servants, as you can see, I am in a serious dilemma and I want you to take this matter seriously. At this junction what our Lord said on this matter is germane. He says we should ask and we shall be given, we should seek and we shall find, and that we should knock and the door shall be opened unto us. I am on this 4th day of the ninth month in the year of our Lord. Two thousand and four, asking, seeking and knocking at your door.
My prayer is that thou should open so that thy servant can enter I want to wake up in the morning and see only your face. I want you to be the only sugar in my tea, the only fly in my ointment, the butter in my bread, the gray matter in my system, the oxygen in my lungs, the planet of my universe, the clock of my room and the conveyor belt of my soul. I pray that you realize the gargantuan nature of my predicament. If you refuse my life will be like tea without sugar, like a snail without shell, an x-mass goat without a horn. Infact I’ll become an orphan. What’s life if I can’t wake up in the morning and behold your face? You model of pulchritude, patiently created by God on a Friday morning before he went for a deserved holiday. Please Romeo let me be your Juliet. Make me your Eve oh my Adam, for your were. Shakespeare said it all if music be food of love, play it on. I want to emphasize universally and responsibly, that you are love itself. You are the metaphor, oxymoron thesis, antithesis, irony, gerund, conjunction and the adverb of love. Let me also say that the geography of your body is a permanent alleluia.
Your body exudes not ammonia, urea and iodine. You are too handsome for that! What I see in your body is milk and honey. At this juncture brevity is a soul of wit. A stitch in time saves nine. Procrastination is the thief of time. An opportunity once lost can never be regained. Make hay while sun shines. All that glitters is not gold. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. What God has put together let no man put asunder. To be a lady is not an easy task even if God’s time is the best. But time waits for no man.
A lady without love is like fish out of water. I know you are a sagacious man. If you like the veracity of what am saying please take a pen a piece of Webuye product and let what you note down be music to my ears. The mark at the bottom of this page is a kiss from me to you. I remain your beloved, faithful, loyal one and only admirer. Lots of kisses and misses.
EXTRACTINEOUS:
END
BY OMEGA5210 |
