I first loved you as a girl who told herself that your luscious lips, though surely carved by God himself, would never dare touch mine.

The ripples from your well chisled chest made no grand impression on me even as I pictured it pressed gently against mine in a loving embrace.

I scoffed at the idea when you said that one of these days you’d ‘catch’ me, even though your muscular thighs could make Adonis question his masculinity.

I never even noticed how brightly the light reflected from your dreamy eyes as they stared a path through the depths of my soul.

My ears never heard your laugh despite it’s mesmerizing quality that put choirs of angels to shame.

I never sneaked a peek at your long, lithe body as you walked away.  Instead, I attempted to quell the heart that silently begged you to come back.

Still, I  was determined to ignore the incessant pounding of my heart whenever you drew near.

So, imagine my surprise when you told me that those lips wanted to touch mine because you were sure that God had carved them especially for you.