I LOVE YOU

I love you, inattentive, unpretentious, detached. My dear. Oh, dear.
I love you, solicitous, strolling your beauty around the house. My dear.
I love you, with your motherly posture, feigning grumpiness. My dear.
I love you, mature woman, the desire I once dreamed of having. My dear.
I love you, when you undress, still shy, and cover yourself. My dear.
I love you, when you throw yourself at me, surrendering yourself. My dear.
I love you, your hair loose for me to hold in my rough hands. My dear.
I love you, offering yourself with a secret to unravel each day. My dear.
I love you, with a body that exudes heat and sways sex. My dear.
I love you, like the world's first and last gift. My dear. My dear. Oh, dear.
I love you, like a skirt-wearing master I worship. My dear. My dear.
I love you, like a beneficial poison I drink drop by drop. My dear.
I love you, a flower I cultivate without a sense of possession. My dear.
I love you as a refuge from the pains of everyday life. My dear.
I love you as a partner, a friend, and a way to avoid loneliness. My dear.
I love you as a happy ending to all my dramas. My dear. Oh, my dear.
I love you, not for loving me, but for making me feel loved. My dear.
I love you, I can't say anything else other than I love you. My dear.
I love you, I love you, I love you. My dear. Oh, my dear. Dear of mine. Dear.