In a fit of procrastination while Jon snoozes, I used the Love Poem Generator that Naridu had linked to. I give you the end result:
Your skin glows like the banana, blossoms sweltering as the gardenia in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your zither voice and leaps like a llama at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great bald eagle wing.
I am comforted by your sock that I carry into the twilight of water bottlebeams and hold next to my elbow.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of syrup.
As my shin falls from my overcoat, it reminds me of your light switch.
In the quiet, I listen for the last thud of the day.
My heated chin leaps to my balaklava. I wait in the moonlight for your secret couch so that we may sit as one, chin to chin, in search of the magnificient purple and mystical poster of love.
In other news, I am having chocolate cravings of new and obscene proportions, my back hurts to the touch in three places, and instead of writing diligently through the night I took a break and watched two episodes of Ab Fab. Entertaining? Yes, but ultimately very sad, especially since Jon had decided to go to bed at 11 for some unknown reason.
Speaking of which, I now need to wake him up. He has, after all, been asleep for 12 hours. He popped awake at like 2 in the morning and proceeded to jabber at me as I attempted to control my homicidal urges. Grr.