Thoughts on the fullness of love or Where's my bloody valentine?

When I muse on you I think
I'd love to find you in the pink,
There's so much I appreciate
though sometimes it's indelicate;
I'd like to find you in the shower
to chase the soap for half an hour,
I'd love to have your back to scour
and other parts to lubricate.

I'd love to offer you a drink
to smile and tip the knowing wink,
I'd like to guess your exact weight
and win you at the local fete,
I'd like to have you in my power
or chase you up the Eiffel Tower,
I'd like to offer you a flower
and see your eyes dilate .

I love your hair upon your shoulders
like sun bleached grass on marble boulders.
Your lovely back has such potential.
Your waist and hips are so essential.
I'd love to see you in my shirt,
to see you smiling ..lithe ..and pert,
I like the way you smile and flirt.
Let’s keep this confidential.

I like your cheeks, I like your nose,
I like the way your lips disclose
the neat arrangement of your teeth.
Half above and half beneath.
I like your eyes, I like their shade
a promise kept, an offer made,
and don't you have such pretty feet
to gaze upon them is a treat.

I like your height, I like your shape,
your neck is cute and so's the nape
I like your wrists, I like your glands,
I like the fingers on your hands.
I'd like to teach them how to count
and give you just the right amount
of certain things we might exchange.
Something familiar for something strange.

I like the shaping of your ears
the way your profile disappears
whenever you decide to turn and face me.
I like the form of hip and waist
the sensual female line that's traced,
Oh how I wish that it was you who chased me.
I like your back, I like your chest
I'd love you cloth'ed, or undressed,
I wonder if you'd ever kiss and taste me.

You are my goal, you are my muse,
you'd be the end of self abuse.
If I could, I'd take a look
to see my name in your Black Book.
I want to taste your 'apple pie'
to softly rub your inner thigh
and there's another thing I'd like
to be the saddle on your bike.

I'd like to see you in a skirt;
to be the buttons on your shirt.
I like your legs, they're long and fine
they keep your trousers right in line.
I like the colour of your eyes
so blue, long-lashed and free of styes.
and when I see you sitting there
I wish, I wish I was that chair.

I'd like you if you were a bitch,
and you were drowning in a ditch
submerged beneath the weed and mud
scratched and torn and oozing blood.
I'd lift you, caring to hold you gently
and love you physically and ment'ly.
I'd like to be your kith, not kin,
I'd like your hand and heart to win.

I'd sail, with you, across the Med
on the boat we built in your Dad's shed;
I'd take you to a distant place
to let the sun shine on your face
far from this cold and windswept land.
I'd let you hold my ungloved hand
and whilst we were both standing there,
I'd let you know how much I care.