The name of your love is "me."
The curve of your love's hip, it belongs to "me."
The way your love's back arches beneath you is characteristic of something "I" would do.
The coy smile your love's lips make; those are really "my" lips.
The way your love's presences stops your world, makes you gasp for breath, and plead with God to spare your life for another day in order to be in her ethereal light. . .Those were all brought on by none other than "myself."
Does this suprise you?
Does this excite you?
"I" knew it would.