My very own honey pie
You hover in front of the kitchen window, colorful as a bright rainbow, touching and not touching the ravishing
flower exploding before you, and you are so lovely... In spite of the poems I sent you and the conversations about
the depth of the soul, you chose him. You know, if I were only as handsome as the two of you, I would make
exactly the same choice as you, and, inflamed, I would become the chief prosecutor of my very own burnished
theory of personality.