Like a gypsy, she has me under her spell. I smell her sweet perfume everywhere I go. I love her playful demeanor that I would personally exhume if she buried it, can never forgo. Before she leaves for work, she hurriedly must kiss me, I love how she quickly tucks her pretty hands behind my back, always messing with me. I love that she never gets petty when we disagree, she acts like her university degree … I think if she were a breed she would be a high pedigree.

Like ink, she is the constant of my life’s biro, for instance I roll with her at all times. When I can’t write, she is always right by my side inspiring me and in an instant it all starts to flow. I am constantly aspiring to be like her, always hopeful and cheerful. When things go wrong, she is purposely going on about how I have to remain optimistic. She is like a mystery, a never-dying river, leaving me in dire will to demystify her.

Like a good book, I can’t put her down. When I do, I lay her on the bed for nothing but good loving. It’s like having to read over a good story, it’s always worth it. When am hurting, she is always trying to take the pain away, every time I get distracted and sway, I remember when I was hunting for a good girl, I never knew that she would have to come with the full package to turn the fool in me into a love trackage.

Like a train, she demands compulsory stopovers. She loves it smooth and I made a cool discovery that being with her is not mandatory but it’s a luxury she granted me. I am trained to love her because she is trustworthy, it drives me insane how motherly she gets in spite of the simplicity she intends. She tends to me diligently with no trickery so when they ask me why I wanna put a ring on her finger, it’s because I fancy her consistency, humility, nobility, dignity and our compatibility that nothing can hinder.

Dude, I am under her spell!

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