I won't forget We

Poetry is my new hobby, even if she never looks.
I don't like calling her a slut, because at the end of the day, I don't think she is. If she was, I'd still love her.
Anal sex really turns me off. I can't imagine anyone enjoying.
Humiliation is not my cup of tea.
I would never force a woman to have sex with me.
I've been with 3 women, and was burned by the second.
The third was a rebound, and I never got over the second. I wanted to, but my body disagreed.
While I love girls, I'm attracted to women my age and older.
My best friend wants me to think she's a bad person, when in fact, she was my first true love, and the smartest person I've ever met.
We probably were best friends who happened to enjoy sex.
The secrets she told me (while they might be lies) will never come out.
Addiction was a huge problem for me, but now I realize what to avoid in life--originally it was for her direction and nagging.
When I told her that if she found someone who makes her happier, she could leave without a fight, I meant every word.
I am overprotective of her younger siblings, and I helped one go back to school. He is a sweetheart, and will make a woman very happy--he also gets along great with kids.
I'd follow her to hell and back if she needed it.
Her grandfather is a hero, and only her and I will smile at the term WeeFee.
She hid me from the people she didn't love, and introduced me to the kids she raised. I never gave her too much trouble for keeping me a secret.
If you want to see her eyes light up, give her a picture of the kids she raised as her own--that responsibility is one of the sexiest things about her.
Her strength turns me on, even if she is impulsive.
I stand up for her even when it hurts.
I would tie her up to look into her eyes.
While I'm sure there was trickery involved, I don't think she meant for me to find the poems she left--probably saving her own ass.
I would raise her brothers as my own.
I'm not sure how to accept her leaving forever.
She made me feel better about my body, my teeth, and pointed out that I have a sexy jaw. It never occured to me.
Reading Bertand Russel with her was the best time I've ever had reading--and I learned how to annotate by watching her.
The game isn't over, but I can't expect her to love me.
She deserves to be happy.
I cry when I think about her, and maybe I knew all along.
We danced our butts off, and loved it.
Little hairs make her crazy, and I let her pluck them obsessively.
She loves the child in me, and I love the child in her.
I'm not bitter.

And I'm not done with you yet.
I say hello to the doves that land on my porch, and I think I see her in them.
Dogs really can smile.
Babies love her.

I'm sorry if I let you down, narb.
She gave me the best present, and it's a book of secrets in another language.

She's probably trying to push me away, because she doesn't know how to live without me, and we couldn't not fuck.

She is the yin to my yang, and I refuse to give up without seeing her eyes in person.
It's very possible she will never be part of my life again.
I love her body odor.
She is not a bad person.
I will always miss her foot twitch, and the way she looks in slumber. Sometimes I wonder why I met her, and why I had the guts to ask her out.
She kissed me first.
Satie reminds me of her.
She's part black--or just has soul.
I think she really does love me, and thinks about me when she thinks about good orgasms.
I told her she was pretty without makeup becuase she is.
I will always save her stamp boxes.

I guess you are still my ideal. Go cause trouble.