I could do no less than hold her in my arms and treat her as if she were a living, breathing Renoir.  I cherish the thought of seeing her in champagne pearls... iridescent and elegant... flawless to the eyes.  I can taste Chanel braided within her chemistry... a mixture of sweet rain and sexuality.  These gifts are not reserved strictly for a discerning woman but for any woman blessed with spirit, beauty and certitude.  She holds these qualities and more... inquisitive, engaged and passionate.  She contemplates in terms of ideas and visions while others dwell over pettiness.  She's immaculate in her etiquette, rational in her belief.

The more I think of her, the more inspired I become until I realize it's her energy that drives me to want to know more.  The words I want to say to her become as deep as my desire to deliver them.  I need her to feel these words so that she can taste my emotions in the flavor they were intended.  At times, my thoughts are grounded, then suddenly, they unleash and I lose control of my ability to reason.  She has a subtle way about her... a persuasive and suggestive nature that drives me into a frenzy... a torment that intoxicates me like a junkie, tossing my senses into total chaos.

I would love to know the soft tones and pastels of her personality... the scent of her favorite memories... her mood when leaves fall or the first thing she notices in a man.  I want to know how she intends to save the world while I'm saving hers.  I want to tell her it's ok to feel a little vulnerable if she wants to because maybe I'm feeling the same way.  I want to discover things about her she never realized before, simply because I listened to her soul and rode the wave of her heartbeat.

I would love nothing more than to entice her into the shower of my dreams, replacing her thoughts with soaking wet seduction.  I would ravish her amid steamy walls of a travertine sauna, filled with a sultry blend of musk and redolence.  I want her to shiver in anticipation as my arms consume her, embraced in a vise of tantalizing inducement.  I want to glide my fingers through the luster of her hair and extract pure sensuality.  I want her soul to become so enraged with passion that clinging beads of water transform to vapor the instant my lips touch the softness of her breast.

I want to seize the pillow of her dreams, so that I can dream on it, too.  I crave to feel the delicate warmth of her body against mine, not knowing if it's her heartbeat I feel or my own.  I want to taste her breath in pursuit of a kiss, bewildered as the intensity of her pant mimics a whisper.  I want to slowly brush my fingers across the splendor of her figure in a manner that tells her I feel entitled to be in her presence.  I want to admire the way the eye liner borders her beautiful eyes, absorb the scent of her perfume that fuels my voracity and indulge the gloss that converts her lips to liquid silk.

I'll never stop looking into her eyes and question what she holds dear to her heart.  I'll never cease to admire and envy her inner strength and conviction.  I refuse to apologize if I'm forever intrigued or fascinated by the uniqueness of her thoughts, the singular movements of her nature or the music in her voice.  I will never hesitate to become addicted to the fragrance of her existence.  I see her not as a reality of my own desire but with a desire to escort her into fatal ecstasy.

Some are worthy of poetry, others deserve a passage, but she becomes a novel; to be written through the depth of my words... to be read by envious eyes.

These words will render her breathless... her breath becomes my wine... this wine becomes narcotic... paralyzed by the taste of deep infatuation.  Still, this euphoria lives solely in the flames of my words; shattered by the sounds of desolate tears...  only to awake, yet again, on the isle of broken dreams.

And for each time she suffers over the misery of loves failure to materialize, it will pale in comparison to the anguish I will endure; once knowing I will never indulge in her existence and the other knowing the pages of my diary shall remain painfully void of her memories... forever.