First, eternal love of mine, I reached deep into the love-garden in my heart and plucked forth not just a rose, but a rose bush. A 12? tall rose bush, watered and nourished on my everlasting devotion to you. Now that it?s out, you should probably give it actual water and plant food. But do it with love, my love, or else my heart shall die.
Then I scooped up the love-clay of my heart and crafted a 4.5? tall, 4.5? diameter ceramic pot, as a loving home for the aforementioned rose bush. I worked this planter on the potters? wheel of undying passion that spins evermore in my, you guessed it, heart. Your presence was with me all along, the phantom fingers of your love entwining with my own normal fingers, united in the love of loving and being loved. It was at least four times hotter than that scene in Ghost.
You?ll notice I made the pot white, which is tied for the third-most loving color (behind red and pink, tied with purple). Had I made it red or pink, it would have imploded from sheer love pressure. Passions such as ours are dangerous, loverlady of my love heart.
Finally, to complete this token of my limitless love for you, I threw in some chocolates, because what the hell, why not? Also, they symbolize the sweetness I found behind the foil wrapper around your loving heart, or something. You see what I?m getting at, my love, for our love is stronger than any contrived metaphor.
Thus, dearest love of my passion, did I craft for you this loving gift, dripping with pure unbridled adoration. It is the only one of its kind in existence, just as our love is singular, unmatched, unique.
Just don?t look at the credit card statement next month, OK, lover?
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