The dimple was excruciating, just dunno if I can go so far as to say exactly where it was
Rooting my usually flailing shark-eyes to her freeze-frame spot
Posterior if we do indeed need to spell it out
God does seem to love a trier; hell, so does she!
For. Crying. Out. Loud… shrouded by an altogether painstakingly unreasonable degree of perfection, way I see it t’wud be an awfull sad shame not to dip on in all over again
Grab the back end of her seriously sumptuous surroundings, go about sounding absolutely everything else the whole way out
No doubt inside of my own avid mind right this very minute she to be one such case of there never, ever getting to be any better

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